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and the soldier who will serve them both… #Menage #Historical #Romance @YesItsNicolaC

Hey folks! Today I’m happy to introduce you to Nicola Cameron and her story Behind the Iron Cross!

~ * ~ BIO ~ * ~

Nicola Cameron is an expatriate Chicagoan who has lived in England, Canada, Holland, and Sweden, and keeps a confusing amalgamation of languages in her head as a result. Currently located in the clavicle of Texas, she has finally mastered the proper use of “y’all,” much to her Chicago family’s dismay.

Despite a healthy interest in romance since puberty, it wasn’t until 2012 that Nicola decided to try writing about it. As it turned out, the skills she picked up during her SF writing career transferred rather nicely to romance. When not writing, she wrangles cats, smooches her husband, makes dolls of dubious and questionable identity, and thanks almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then there’s just plain torture…).

~ * ~ STALK ~ * ~

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

~ * ~ ABOUT THE BOOK ~ * ~

Hello, and thanks so much for having me on today! While Behind the Iron Cross is my tenth romance novel to be published, it was actually the first one I ever wrote. I started it in 2012, picking at it in fits and starts while working on my other books, and finally finished it in 2018. In hindsight this is a good thing because I needed some serious novel writing chops, far more than I had in 2012, to pull this story off properly. The experience I’ve gained in the last six years is what made this book possible, and I’m very happy that it’s now available to readers.

Also, it means that my editor will stop nagging me to finish it. (Love you, Theresa!)

Historical Romance, Erotic Romance, MMF Ménage Romance ## Word Count: 105,000 ## Heat Level: 4 ## Published by Belaurient Press ## Formats: ebook, print ## Price: $3.99 (sale price until 12/1: $0.99) ## Pages: 316 ## Print Trim Size: 5.25” x 8” ## ISBN: 978-0-46311-821-4 ## ASIN: B07JKL7BF5 ## Be warned: M/M sex, M/M/F sex, bondage, spanking, multiple partners

~ * ~ BLURB ~ * ~

In the hedonistic wonderland of Cabaret-era Berlin…

…where money can buy you anything you desire…

…and love comes with a pink rose and a practiced smile…

The year is 1923, the Great War is over, and Berlin has become the manic playground of Europe’s elite. Against a glittering background of nightclubs and hot jazz, a sensual American heiress, a wounded playboy, and a desperate German army officer forge a decadent pact of pleasure. But their nights of uninhibited passion soon lead to a forbidden emotional connection, one that will threaten their future … and their lives.

~ * ~ EXCERPT ~ * ~

Kat followed her men, feeling incredibly relaxed and happy. All of her worries about Schoengraff, the wedding, and her future at Tracy Electric felt like they had been trapped behind a thick, clear wall. She knew they were still there, of course, but they didn’t plague her at all.

And seeing both Friedrich and Sam’s trousers bulging from the kissing and canoodling in the hubble-bubble den was doing wonderful things to her own desire. As soon as the car started moving Sam fell on the colonel like a hungry beast, mashing their mouths together and driving his tongue between Friedrich’s lips. His hand snaked down, cupping the German’s undoubtedly aching cock and squeezing it.

It seemed only right to join in. She leaned closer to Friedrich, pressing her breast against his arm as she nibbled and sucked on his earlobe, whispering filthy things into his ear. He gave Sam a last kiss and turned to her, groaning as she undid a button on his shirt and slid her fingers inside to caress the skin there.

Sam moved back in, biting at Friedrich’s neck then soothing the sting with a lick. A fleeting thought crossed Kat’s mind, a wish to have both of her beautiful men naked and in bed with her. All three of them creating a tangle of bodies and limbs, so close that no one could tell where one ended and another began, and to hell if it shocked all of Bridgeport and its stuffy, stodgy society.

At some point the car stopped and the door opened, Horst looming in the opening. The next thing Kat knew they were up in the suite. How, she had no idea, but she was absolutely delighted by it. She led her men into her bedroom, kicking off her shoes as she went.

Laughing, Friedrich fell on Sam, pushing him into the bed and kissing him greedily, opening his mouth to the American’s. “You feel so good,” he said softly, dropping soft kisses over the other man’s chin, cheeks, nose. “Why do you feel so damned good?”

“I don’t know, but I’m glad I do,” Sam murmured. “You feel even better, angel.”

“Mmm.” Friedrich writhed, rubbing against Sam’s lean body. “Too many clothes.”

“I can help with that,” Kat said. She started unbuttoning his shirt, laughing as her fingers fumbled on the tiny mother of pearl discs.

Friedrich stared up at her, naked adoration on his face. He lifted a hand, brushing her cheek with a tender finger that sent shivers down her spine. “You’re so beautiful, Kätzchen. So strong, like a goddess.”

Kätzchen—kitten. Tonight, she would accept that once-hated nickname, especially since he finished up by calling her a goddess. “Clothes, colonel. Let’s get you out of them.”

She quickly stripped him, leaving him naked and gorgeous on the fine sheets while Sam fumbled with his own clothes. Friedrich looked down at his magnificent cock, already hard and pearling a drop of pleasure at the tip, and laughed at it. Sam joined in, and Kat followed. Everything felt wonderful.

The men rolled into each other’s arms and started kissing again, hands roaming muscular bodies and caressing, squeezing, stroking as she watched. It was wickedly delicious, the sight of these two beautiful creatures pleasuring each other. She stripped slowly, reveling in the heightened sensation of her skin as it was exposed to the room’s cool air. She dropped her chemise, then her corselet to the carpet, peeling off the fine silk stockings last and draping them around her neck like a stole. They caught on the chain there. Mustn’t snag the stockings. There were things she could do with them, wonderfully dark and heady things.

She unhooked the chain and tossed it and the key onto the bedside table. Crawling onto the bed, she gently pushed Friedrich onto his back and away from Sam, slithering down into his arms. “My turn,” she purred.

His eyes were thin rings of blue around wide black centers, the eyes of a child on Christmas morning who had just seem the mountain of presents awaiting him. “So beautiful. You’re so beautiful.”

She stroked his cheek, feeling the fine prickle of his beard. “So are you, my colonel. The most beautiful man, isn’t he, Sam?”

“Oh, yes,” Sam said thickly, kissing his way down Friedrich’s chest. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

She wanted to kiss Friedrich again, taste his mouth, feel his tongue dancing slickly around hers as they shared breath and heat. A faint voice in the back of her head murmured something in a warning tone, something about discipline and too much indulgence. She didn’t care. She wanted this beautiful man, and she was going to have him.

~ * ~ BUY ~ * ~

Amazon: US ## Barnes & Noble ## iTunes ## Kobo ## Smashwords

~ * ~

Nicola Cameron, thank you for stopping by today!

Love & blessings to all! ❤
Jacey

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But how can she resist him? ‘Hawk’ #MCRomance @AuthorLynnBurke @evernightpub

HAWK, FALLEN GLIDERS #2
is now available!

Hawk
Fallen Gliders #2
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Artwork: Jay Aheer, Simply Defined Art
Projected Release Date: July 26, 2018
Keywords: MC Romance, Contemporary, Erotic, May/December

*Be warned: Spanking, anal sex


As a member of the Fallen Gliders, bad boy biker Hawk Richards tends to use his fists first and has fucked his way through the club whores. Life has been a never ending supply of bikes, women, and beer. When his brother hands in his colors, Hawk is sworn in as the new Sergeant at Arms and struggles to find meaning in the club and his existence. Until her.

Janie is curvy as fuck and the sweetest thing Hawk has ever seen. The young woman with the joy of life in her eyes is everything he’s been missing, everything he’s ever wanted. When the little butterfly falls into his arms, he wonders if someone might finally look beyond his ink and reputation to see the man hiding underneath.

Janie’s life has always been a roller coaster, and even though she’s flying high with Hawk, she knows a crash is inevitable. The last thing she wants is for him to be burdened with picking up the pieces. But how can she resist him? His touch makes her burn, and every minute in his bed intensifies her craving for more.

Can Hawk convince Janie he wants her for the long haul, or will the secret she keeps tear him from her side forever?




EXCERPT:

We’d been in Sturgis for almost a week, and I hadn’t fucked a single woman. My outlook on life sucked the previous couple of months, to the point the thought of having my cock shoved down a willing throat or burying myself balls-deep in some random cunt didn’t even twitch my dick. I felt like a wind-blown leaf with no sense of purpose, no desire for sex or companionship. I’d taken to drinking harder stuff than my usual beer but knew the slump I floundered in wouldn’t end well unless I decided to pick my ass up and figure out my life.
Perhaps today’s the day, I told myself, picking up the shot of whiskey our waitress sat in front of me.
A flash of red-brown hair drew my gaze to the far left before I could pop out the toothpick and down my drink. A little butterfly with gray-green eyes flashing along with her wide smile. Dimple, full lips, high cheekbones—a fucking model in a tight tank and Daisy Dukes.
My cock thickened inside my leather pants, and my head turned as she slowly passed by the picture window, her face animated and lips moving as she chatted with her friends, the joyful gleam in her eyes snaring me tight. She radiated life, an exuberant, light step while I wallowed in my shit life.
Jealousy and yearning for what she experienced clenched my chest, and I found myself rubbing a hand over tattooed pecs I spent hours sculpting on a daily basis.
The little butterfly passed beyond the window, and I sat back, not realizing I’d leaned forward to keep her in sight.
“Finally see something worth fucking?” Jonny asked with an elbow to my ribs.
“Fuck, yeah. Reddish hair—not the dyed kind—and tits out to here,” I said around my toothpick, holding my hand out a few inches away from my chest. “Young and full of life.”
One of Jonny’s eyebrows rose. “What the fuck you sitting here for?”
I hesitated to glance around the group of men—fellow Fallen Gliders from across the States, discussing the lighter aspect of business. A large meeting had taken place the night before, the heads of the chapters sitting down to discuss the future of our club. Just more depressing shit to pile on life.
“Go on,” Jonny encouraged, elbowing me again.
 I hopped off my stool and pushed my way through the crowd for the front door. At six-foot-five, I had no trouble seeing over most of the heads bobbing to my right as I stepped out onto the sidewalk.
The roar of mufflers and cranking music from Christ knew where filled my ears as I breathed in the scents of exhaust, sweat, and cheap perfume in the night air. I took a half-dozen steps to the right, scanning the crowd of people on the sidewalk in front of me before pulling up short. No fucking way I was going to find her unless I acted like an asshole and shoved people out of my way while hurrying the way she’d gone.
Curses flew from my lips while I turned back toward the bar. A voice in my head sang a country hit, reminding me that if we were meant to be, it’d be.
“No fucking luck?” Jonny asked as I slumped back onto the stool.
My scowl sufficed for an answer.
Tipping back my head for the whiskey burn didn’t help my shit mood. Neither did the bloody burger and pile of fries fifteen minutes later. Thoughts of the little butterfly warred with depression in my mind, and I called it an early night, leaving my brothers behind. The quietness of the hotel didn’t offer anything but a hot shower where I could blow the load that had been building in my balls for weeks.
At least I had a semi-purpose … find the vivacious little butterfly and steal some of her joy in life for myself.
© Lynn Burke 2018

Sign up for Lynn’s Newsletter, and read the ENTIRE first chapter of Hawk AND enter to win an ecopy of Nicky, FG #1!

Other books in this series:

ABOUT LYNN BURKE:
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.

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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!

~ * ~ BIO ~ * ~

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.

~ * ~ STALK ~ * ~

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.

~ * ~ BLURB ~ * ~

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

~ * ~ EXCERPT ~ * ~

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.

~ * ~ BUY ~ * ~

Evernight Publishing ## Amazon

~ * ~

Katherine Wyvern, thank you for stopping by today!

Love & blessings to all! ❤
Jacey

Older men were so the… ‘Nicky’ #MCRomance #EroticRomance #MayDecember @AuthorLynnBurke @evernightpub


Nicky
Fallen Gliders #1

Art Work: Jay Aheer, Simply Defined Art

Keywords: MC, Erotic, Contemporary, May/December

*Be warned: Spanking, anal sex

Dominic “Nicky” Landon has been a Sargent at Arms for the Fallen Gliders for thirty years. When he finds out his only sister overdoses on drugs dealt by his brothers, he hands in his colors and severs ties to the club and vicious lifestyle forever.

Mel Hughson owns the only bar in hicksville, no-mans-land, New Hampshire. She’s content with her single life, but the cold, spring night Nicky Landon’s Harley rolls into town ignites her desire. The fact he’s got at least twenty years on her doesn’t mean jack to Mel. He’s hot, he’s dangerous, and whether he knows it or not, he belongs to her.

Can Mel tempt Nicky to ignore their age gap and surrender to her, or will the secrets from his perilous past rise up to destroy everything?

 Excerpt:
We knocked the liquor back, and our gazes met as we set the glasses on the bar.

“How old are you?” Nicky asked, his attention snagging on my lips.

“Twenty-eight.”

He scrubbed a hand over the beard lining his jaw while looking away. “So damn young.”

“Not too young.” Gauntlet thrown, I waited for his attention to return to my face. Eyes full of lust, a leashed animal that ought to scare the shit out of me but didn’t.

“I’m no good.”

I cocked my head and slid my gaze down over him, not missing the hard length straining against his leathers. “Look pretty damn good to me.”

His low groan rushed need through me again, and I knew I’d leave a wet spot on the stool once I got up.

“You’re messing with fire, little girl.”

Heat flushed through me. “I enjoy flames now and then.” My breath caught at the hunger on his face, parting my lips.

“Fuck it.” He grasped my chin in his warm palm. “I’ll give you what you want, little girl, but don’t go crying to your mommy in the morning because a big bad wolf left his mark on you.”

Oh, God. I swallowed and squeezed my thighs together. Older men were so the shit.

He captured my lips, but without the brute force I’d expected. Hunger, yes, but the full softness of his lips pressed against mine, taking and tasting, his tongue probing, whiskers brushing my skin. I parted my lips and moaned as he sank his tongue into my mouth, fucking every hidden corner, filling me with the taste of whiskey and pure male. My skin pebbled, pulse thrummed.

“Goddamn.” Nicky stood and yanked me off the stool. Virile, pure hardness and muscle beneath the leather hiding his skin from my grasping hands. His fingers fisted in my long hair, tangling and yanking my head to the side, the other grabbing my ass and hauling me against his huge cock.

He crouched down slightly and pulled me up. My legs wrapped around him as though having a mind of their own—even though I had been thinking about getting him between my legs all night long.

His beard brushed along my neck as he breathed me in and licked from my collarbone to my ear. “You smell like a fucking spring day. Innocent.”

“I’m h-hardly an innocent,” I gasped as he bit my earlobe and ground his cock against my sopping jeans.

“Thank God, because I want to be balls deep inside of you. Now.”

He thrust, and I moaned, my fingers grasping at his t-shirt.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered harshly in my ear.

“No way in hell.”

With a growl, he squeezed my ass to the point of pain. “I haven’t wanted a woman like this in a long fucking time.”

“So take what you want.”

“Goddamn.” He rested his forehead on mine. “Right here?”

I slithered a hand between us to grasp the hardness inside his leathers. “Right now.”

“Fuck.” Like my five-foot-six frame and thirty extra pounds meant nothing, he spun me around. “Hands on the bar.”

I did as told, bending at the waist and putting my ass on display with a little wiggle.

“Don’t move,” he said while peeling off his leather jacket.

My legs trembled, and I turned my head to watch as he moved to the front door and flicked off the lights.

The streetlight half a block away barely cut through the storm, but the flash of lightning lit Nicky up as he stalked back toward me, shedding his t-shirt.

Broad shoulders … another flash filled my eyes with tanned skin stretched tight over massive pecs and abs a twenty-year-old guy would kill for.

I licked my lips, hoping for another flash of light, but Nicky palmed my waist and leaned over my back, his cock pressed against my ass, the heat of his skin searing me through my shirt.

My eyelids fluttered shut as he wrapped his fingers around my hair again and tilted my head back.

“Last chance, Mel.” His rumbling voice and hot breath against my ear brought a moan past my lips.

“Take me,” I managed to whisper and licked my dry lips. “Please.”



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About Lynn Burke:

Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.

he’d change her life forever… ‘Her Sir’ #Contemporary #Erotic #Romance @MeganSlayer @evernightpub

Her Sir by Megan Slayer Her-Sir-evernightpublishing-MARCH2018-finalimage

Evernight Publishing

Contemporary Erotic Romance

M/F, BDSM, Exhibitionism, Anal Sex, Toys, Spanking

There’s only one man for Andi—her Sir.

Andi McCarron knew the moment she met Sir’s gaze, he’d change her life forever. Despite other Doms wanting her as their sub, she only submits to him because he knows how to make her skin tingle. The pain delivered from his crop makes her spirit sing. She needs Sir but she wants more—except he’s not interested in taking the relationship outside of the club. What’s a girl to do when the man of her dreams, the one wielding the crop, won’t leave the club?

Dean Meyer craves his sweet sub, Andi. She fills his dreams and fantasies, but she wants a relationship. He’s not sure she can handle both his demons and secrets. Still, he can’t deny the attraction to her. When fate throws them together, he has to make a choice—give his sub what she needs or let her go for good.

Her-Sir-evernightpublishing-MARCH2018-3D-eReader2.jpg

Available from these fine retailers:

Evernight Publishing: http://www.evernightpublishing.com/her-sir-by-megan-slayer/

Universal link: https://books2read.com/u/38goyO

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07BY57KMD/

Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B07BY57KMD/

Amazon FR: https://www.amazon.fr/dp/B07BY57KMD/

Amazon JP: https://www.amazon.co.jp/dp/B07BY57KMD/

Amazon IT: https://www.amazon.it/dp/B07BY57KMD/

Amazon DE: https://www.amazon.de/dp/B07BY57KMD/

Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B07BY57KMD/

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07BY57KMD/

Her-Sir-evernightpublishing-MARCH2018-banner2

Excerpt:

©2018 Megan Slayer, All Rights Reserved

“You control everything,” she blurted. Her cheeks reddened, and she bowed her head. “Sorry. But you do.”

“Actually, you do. When we play, you’re the one in control. You say stop or slow, and I follow. I push you, but you tell me when you’re done. I’ll encourage you to stretch your boundaries, but only because I want to make you fly.” He pushed the cooling coffee to the side. “If you say no, then I respect your decision.”

“You expect me to kneel.” She flattened her palms on the table. “Like that last time.”

“I wanted to show off my beautiful woman. If you’d have said no before we left the private area, I would’ve stayed out of the main room.” He leveled his gaze at her. “I expect a partner. You were my best partner.” He hadn’t taught her very well if she thought she was second rate. When they played again—and they would be—he’d show her what he meant.

“You have one. A partner. I saw the demonstration,” she said. “You replaced me.”

“Slow down.” He hadn’t known she was at the club when he’d done the demonstration or he would’ve plucked her from the audience. “Which demo?”

“There’s more than one?”

“I don’t have a permanent sub, so I’m expected to do demonstrations for visitors, for the videos … for people who want to play the voyeur. That’s part of my job at the club.” Not his favorite part and he couldn’t wait to pass the torch to someone else, but he’d tell her that later. She managed to aggravate him like no other. He wanted to stretch her ass across his lap and spank the sass out of her. Then he wanted to kiss her until she collapsed. He wasn’t one to settle down, but she made him think twice. In her own way, she’d broken him.

“I thought we had something.” She turned her cup around. “Now I understand I was just another client.”

“I never said that. Never thought it,” he said. She’d been special from the start. He loved the way she felt in his arms, the way she moaned during a scene, the flicker in her eyes just before she came…

“Then why replace me? Why not tell me how you felt?” she asked. “Or have you come to this realization now that we’re not at the club?”

“First, I didn’t replace you. I don’t have any one sub I play with. The girls in the video are one and done. No sex, just demonstration and go. I haven’t found anyone who can fill your place. I’ve had a couple offers, but they aren’t you.” They shouldn’t be having this conversation in public, but she needed reassurance. “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

* * * * *

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and BDSM themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been the runner up in the Kink Category at Love Romances Café as well as nominated at the LRC for best author, best contemporary, best ménage and best anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on Amazon.com.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. Find out more about Megan and Wendi at: http://wendizwaduk.com/indexMegan.htm Sign up for the newsletter here: http://ymlp.com/xgjmjumygmgj

Website, Blog, Fan Page, Amazon Author Page, Bookbub, Instagram, Goodreads, and Twitter

faced with truth beyond faith #taboo #EroticRomance @AuthorLynnBurke @evernightpub

HAPPY BOOK BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!

When faced with truth beyond faith, Abel must decide where he belongs—with the Amish community, or the woman who owns his heart.
Abel Beiler’s
story came about while visiting my parents in Amish country this past April.
While leaving for home early Sunday morning, I pulled up to a stop sign at a
four-way intersection as horses labored to pull their Amish owners and families
in their buggies to Sunday worship. 
One young man
in an open buggy sat to my right at the stop sign, unsmiling, leaning forward,
elbows on knees and reins slack in his hands. I had this overwhelming urge to
smile at him, trying to bring a little sunshine to his miserable countenance. 
My plan didn’t
work, and even though I was in an SUV with 3 children, the idea of Abel and
Dani slammed into my brain, occupying my thoughts the whole way home. I
voice-to-text in my phone’s notepad off and on the entire seven hour ride back
to Massachusetts as Abel whispered his struggle to find himself in my brain.
Abel’s
Obsession is by far the raunchiest story I’ve written to date, and I’m hoping
the most eye-opening as well. An oppressed life isn’t a joyful one, and finding
the strength to free yourself isn’t always easy. Neither is the choice to take
wing and fly.
~Lynn


Abel’s Obsession
Cover Art: Jay Aheer, Simply Defined Art
Release Date: August 30, 2017

Be Warned: BDSM, restraints, sex toys, anal sex, spanking

A young man of religious fervor
and self-control, Abel Beiler has every intention of honoring his parents and being
baptized into the Amish church. The woman with red curls and flashing green
eyes in the back of a convertible, however, makes Abel wonder what life with
the English might be like.

He strives to withstand
temptation, but the memory of the woman he yearns to dominate, coupled with the
explicit images in his cousin’s filthy magazine, threatens his restraint.

Red, his sinful obsession, haunts
his shameful dreams and becomes a secret part of his life. When faced with
truth beyond faith, Abel must decide where he belongs—with the Amish community,
or the woman who owns his heart.

**GET YOUR COPY 25%SALE AT EVERNIGHT!**

~~~oOo~~~

EXCERPT:

Much later and hoarse from singing for two hours, my curiosity overrode my better sense, and I followed Eli into the hayloft of their barn. While I held the kerosene lamp, he climbed high into the rafters and returned with a magazine clutched in his hand.
“Got this from my new English friend, Toby.” He sat on a bale, opened the magazine, and turned it toward me.
Lust kicked me in the gut, and I couldn’t speak.
A naked woman lay spread eagle and bound by ropes to a bed, a blindfold and some sort of ball gag in her mouth. A man loomed over her, whip in hand. Tear streaks lined the woman’s face. Red slashes marked her thighs. Wetness coated the pink folds of her sex, glistening, and set my mouth to watering.
The image burned into my brain—submission in an entirely different way than the Old Order’s definition of the word. Spirituality is submission, is what had been reiterated in my ears since childhood. Self-surrender. The willingness to give up oneself to the community and Gott’s chosen leaders.
I soaked in the sinful picture, and for the first time in my life wanted power. Wanted control. I wanted a woman’s submission like the man in leather beside her owned. Unable to tear my gaze off the image, I struggled to swallow.
“Didn’t know people actually did this shit.”
Eli’s curse, the first I had heard from him, barely registered past the blood rushing in my ears. My body tensed as longing to be the man standing over that woman, whip in hand raced through me faster than any thoroughbred—or car.
The image of Red flashed in my mind, and suddenly it was her bound to the bed in the picture, breathing heavily, trembling, and begging for me…
~~~oOo~~~

ABOUT LYNN BURKE:

Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.






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One fateful night #EroticRomance #BDSM @AuthorLynnBurke @evernightpub

Third Wheel
Elite Escorts #1
By Lynn Burke
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Art Work: Jay Aheer, Simply Defined Art
Release Date: May 18, 2017
Keywords: Erotic, Romance, Contemporary, BDSM, single parent, stalking
*Warning: Multiple Partners, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Spanking
 

Carpenter by day, man whore extraordinaire by night, Reid Sullivan lives every man’s dream. But, Elite Escort’s hottest third wheel longs for something more than casual sex with clients. 
 

Jessica Lindy’s testimony helped put her ex-husband behind bars, but she can’t escape his vows of revenge. A jaded single mom, she guards her heart and daughter’s life against any man. 


One fateful night with Reid, the temptation for Jessica to allow another man into their lives becomes too hard to resist. But when her past collides with the present, lives—and love–will be lost unless Jessica learns how to lower her defenses. Can the professional escort convince the wary young mom that he can be a different sort of third wheel–the one she can trust?  
 
Purchase Links:


~~~oOo~~~ 
 
Excerpt:
“Go into the bedroom and take your clothes off,” he said, stepping back, hands releasing their hold on me. “There are towels in the adjoining bathroom. Wrap one around yourself and get comfy on that big ass bed, belly down.”
 
Uh … oh yeah. Massage. Right.
 
Unable to find my voice, I nodded and tried to walk away. Damn heels near sent me sprawling on the floor.
 
“Here. Let me.” Reid dropped to his knees and lifted one of my feet to unbuckle the black heels Christine had insisted on.
 
I grabbed hold of his shoulder to keep from falling over, my gaze locked on the dark head inches away from my throbbing clit. Thoughts of him lifting my dress’s hem with his teeth brought a moan to my throat, but I bit down on the inside of my lip to keep from letting it out.
 
His large hand slid up my calf and back down before making short work of the clasp. My foot slid free, and he ran his hand up my other leg, catching my breath.
 
Get a grip, Jessica. The barest touch on my skin—hotter than any sex I could remember. My body craved more. One little lick, one little pinch on my clit, and I’d be screaming my release for the world to hear.
 
“Go on,” Reid said, standing and stepping back, my heels dangling from his hand.
With another thoughtless, dumb nod, I managed to make my feet move. I eyed the massive bed while making my way across the bedroom to the open bathroom door. Images of Reid’s ass clenching with each thrust into my writhing body beneath his flashed across my mind.
 
“G-good God,” I whispered.
 
Hands shaking, I all but ripped off my tight dress and restricting bra, but paused to consider my panties. A full body massage…
 
Another few seconds of indecision and I slid the soaked bit of silk down my legs. Just in case he wanted to knead my ass cheeks. And, nothing more than that, I told myself while wrapping a white fluffy towel around me. A peek into the bedroom revealed it empty, so I scooted to the bed, pulled back the comforter and top sheet, and lay face down a little ways from the edge, eyes clenched shut, pulse pounding through every cell of my body.
 
Closer than a hair to hyperventilation, I focused on slowing my breathing. Relaxed my muscles as soft instrumental music floated through the closed door.
“Jessica?” Reid’s low voice raised what little hair I had on my body. “Can I come in?”
 
I squeaked a reply but had to clear my throat and try again. “Yes.”
 
Yes. Please come … I mean, come in. Touch me. Make me come.
 
 ~~~oOo~~~
 
About Lynn Burke
 
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.
Links: