Tag Archives: Erotic Romance

Release Blitz: ‘The Unrequited’ by Saffron A. Kent

Title: The Unrequited
Author: Saffron A. Kent
Genre: Contemporary/Erotic Romance
Release Date: July 13, 2017


Blurb

Layla Robinson is not crazy. She is suffering from unrequited love. But it’s time to move on. No more stalking, no more obsessive calling.

What she needs is a distraction. The blue-eyed guy she keeps seeing around campus could be a great one—only he is the new poetry professor—the married poetry professor.

Thomas Abrams is a stereotypical artist—rude, arrogant, and broody—but his glares and taunts don’t scare Layla. She might be bad at poetry, but she is good at reading between the lines. Beneath his prickly façade, Thomas is lonely, and Layla wants to know why. Obsessively.

Sometimes you do get what you want. Sometimes you end up in the storage room of a bar with your professor and you kiss him. Sometimes he kisses you back like the world is ending and he will never get to kiss you again. He kisses you until you forget the years of unrequited love; you forget all the rules, and you dare to reach for something that is not yours.

NOTE: Please be aware that this book deals with sensitive topics like cheating and death. 18+ Only.

 

Purchase Links
99c for 24 hours ONLY
Price will go up to $2.99 AFTER release day!
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Excerpt

I’m hit by a storm of desire to kiss him better. It’s a tornado, an avalanche in my body, and in one breathless moment, I decide to go for it. It’s okay. I can take the blame for it later.

I break the rules and reach up and kiss him. A feathery peck on his plump lips, it’s a kiss of solidarity, a kiss that intends to tell him I understand—but one isn’t enough. It only manages to ratchet up my lust. So I give him another, this time on the corner of his mouth, and then another one on his jaw.

It’s not enough, these small, barely-there touches. I want more, but I won’t take it. I’ll be good; I’ll only give.

Abruptly, he fists my curls and stops me. I look at him fearfully, ready to apologize—not for the kiss, but for being the kisser. His gaze reflects passion, stark, raving need, and I shiver, despite wearing layers and sweating with his heat.

“Are you trying to kiss me, Layla?” he rasps, flexing his fingers on my makeshift ponytail.

He couldn’t tell? Blush rises to the surface and I know I’m glowing like a neon sign. Swallowing, I nod. “Yes.”

He inches closer to me, still not touching—as impossible as that is—but infinitely closer. “You want to kiss me, Miss Robinson, you do it right.”

Oh God, does he have to call me that? Now, here? My spine arches on its own and my heavy tits graze the contours of his shuddering chest.

“H-How?” I ask innocently, belying the daring action of my body. His stern, professor-y voice is doing things to me, making me wild, uncontrolled.

For a second, he’s silent, just watching. I’m afraid he’ll back out from whatever this is, whatever insanity we’re about to commit—but then I sense the shift in the liquor-laced air as he opens his mouth and growls, “Like this.”

 

 

Author Bio
 Writer of bad romances. Coffee Addict. White Russian Drinker. Imaginary Ballet Dancer and poetess. Aspiring Lana Del Ray of the book world.

I’m a big believer in love (obviously). I believe in happily ever after, the butterflies and the tingling. But I also believe in edgy, rough and gutsy kind of love. I believe in pushing the boundaries, darker (sometimes morally ambiguous) emotions and imperfections.

The kind of love I write about is flawed just like my characters. And I hope by the end of it, you’ll come to root for them just as much as me. Because love, no matter where it comes from, is always pure and beautiful.




Author Links

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Release Blitz: ‘Mountain Man Daddy’ by Kara Kelley

Title: Mountain Man Daddy

Author: Kara Kelley

Release date: July 7, 2017

Links:

Amazon.com:  goo.gl/iehE9F

Amazon.ca: goo.gl/irNEDM

Amazon.com/uk: goo.gl/uFhPFz

Hashtags: #eroticromance #bdsm #romance #daddydom #daddy #DDLG

 

Blurb:

Since retiring from his job as an officer with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, Mike Hunter has been living off grid in a cabin nestled in the mountains of New Brunswick, but his solitary existence is interrupted when he pulls a beautiful young woman from her vehicle after a crash she is lucky to have survived. Mike’s conscience overrides his desire for privacy and he brings the injured woman back to his cabin to care for her.

Avery Trent is desperate to get away from the ruthless men seeking to collect on her murdered husband’s gambling debt, and the last thing she wants is to stay put in some mountain man’s cabin until he decides it’s safe for her to leave. But Mike gives her no choice in the matter, and when she makes a run for it Avery quickly ends up over his knee for a sound spanking.

In spite of her situation, Avery cannot help feeling safe and cared for when Mike gently comforts her after her punishment, and when he takes her in his arms his dominant lovemaking is better than she could have ever imagined. Mike does not hesitate to assume the role of Avery’s firm but loving daddy, and he is fully prepared to discipline her as thoroughly as necessary to curb her reckless defiance, but will he be able to keep her safe from both her enemies and his own?

Publisher’s Note: Mountain Man Daddy includes spankings, sexual scenes, and elements of age play. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

Excerpt

“What are you doing?” His gruff voice made her drop the shorts to her feet and stand swiftly. Her face felt hot with embarrassment. He’d caught her going through his underwear drawer. Oh, God, his underwear drawer!“Uh.” She looked to the drawer, her gaze landing on a pair of thick wool socks and she lunged for them.

“I—my feet were cold.” Her pulse quickened as his eyes narrowed, the heat of his gaze making more than her heart pound. Avery swallowed several times to rid herself of the dry patch in her throat. Yes, she liked this guy’s look, even when it was irritated, maybe especially so. There was a mix of excitement, heat, and fear that fizzed in her. He was a contradiction with his rugged, gruff exterior and his gentle nurturing, and it fascinated her.

“I was distracted by the funny boxers,” she said, looking down sheepishly at the socks, hoping he bought her lie. It wasn’t all a lie; she had gotten distracted by his shorts.

His hands went to his hips. The jeans he wore were old but hugged him well—too well to need the thick leather belt he wore. Tucked into them was a green thermal long-sleeved shirt that molded over each well-defined pec, ab, and bicep. He was a man in every single way.

“And what would you think if you caught me looking through your undergarments?” He walked toward her, and she stepped back automatically, her knees hitting the bed and knocking her to a sitting position. She chewed the inside of her cheek as he kept coming.

“I’d probably think you were a pervert.” She was intimidated by his size, so she looked to her feet.

“I think that sounds about right.” He bent forward and lifted Avery’s chin with one long, callused finger. “Are you a pervert?” Was that humor in his eyes? She swallowed audibly. She shook her head, and her stomach churned nervously.

“What’s your name, little girl?” His deep voice hummed through her, and her heart flipped. She only shook her head again. He sighed and sat down beside her on the bed.

“Lie down.” It was once again a stern demand rather than a request. His gaze searched hers, but this time it wasn’t as uncomfortable. His stern but concerned blue eyes penetrated hers, and a starburst of thrills shot through her. His plump lips framed by the reddish-blond beard were calling to her, and she wanted to place her hands on his weather-pinked cheeks and draw him closer.

He sighed again and pulled his toque off. His hair hung in dark blond waves to his shoulders. Longish hair had never, ever been sexy to her, but God, this man wore it well. He tucked it behind his ears. She wanted to reach out and touch it. It looked thick and smooth.

“Do you ever do as you’re told?” he asked, sounding more than a little exasperated. She shrugged and gave him a small, flat smile. Obedience and Avery had been synonymous at one time.

“I don’t have patience for people at the best of times, but little girls that drive off the road because they’re speeding and ignoring warning signs, and force me to rescue them not once, but twice—well, I have no patience for them at all. Now, lie down or I’ll introduce my hard hand to your bare bottom.” His forehead creases deepened.

“Okay, Yukon.”

“My name is Mike, Annie calls me Yukon. But while you’re here, you’ll call me Daddy.”

About Kara Kelley:

Kara Kelley is a naughty Canuck (that’s a Canadian for those of you that don’t know), who loves spanks, a little bondage, tantalizing creative sex (trust me, honey this sh*t is gonna rock our world) and TIM HORTON’S. She’s full of playful mischief, loyalty and maybe some stubbornness, but she’ll never admit it. And she believes living in a secluded cabin in the woods (including good WIFI, a stocked Kindle, and plenty of chocolate) with her husband would be absolute bliss.

 

How to find Kara:

Website: www.karakelleyauthor.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/karakelleyauthor

Email: karakelleyauthor@gmail.com

Twitter: @KaraKauthor

Instagram: @karakelleyauthor

Amazon page: www.amazon.com/Kara-Kelley/e/B01N9RQK7S

Want to be the first to know about new releases, get access to exclusive content, giveaways and more? Subscribe to Kara’s newsletter!

www.subscribepage.com/Kara_Kelley_Newsletter

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Author Spotlight: David S. Scott

David S. Scott

Spotlight

The Phoenix Series
Genre: Erotica
Deep In You
By David S. Scott
$1.99 or free with KU
Blurb:

My name is Alexander Phoenix. You’ve probably heard of me, most people have. I’ve won numerous awards and medals all over the world, including the last two Olympics Games. Outside gymnastics, I’m untamable. Many have tried, none have succeeded. They’ve called me a playboy, a philanderer…

Until a chance meeting in a bar with her almost proves to be a disaster for both of us. She’s hot, fascinating and, despite the fact that she poses a risk to me because she’s a tabloid reporter, I can’t help but feel drawn to her.

What are her secrets? Who wants to hurt her?

I’ve never shied away from challenges. Why should I start now?

©David S Scott 2016

 

☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°• 
☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•
¸.•*´)¸.•*´)¸.•Excerpt from Deep in You♡¸¸.•*´)¸.•*´)
By David S. Scott
$1.99

Power.

Strength.

Control.

These were the attributes I valued, lived by. They had become my mantra.

Power. Watching the gymnasts as a child had fascinated me, and my parents had been quick to capitalize on this and enroll me in classes. It got me out from underfoot, and I loved the feeling of power and strength that coursed through my body. I learned to contort myself into impossible positions and hold them until the exertion almost proved too much… and then push myself even further.

Strength. Gymnastics had taught me much about myself. I craved a good challenge; the thrill of winning seduced me. I was damned good at it, too. Over the course of my career, I’d won five gold medals and four silver in the last two Olympic Games, as well as countless other awards in other forums. Much more civilized than contact sports, gymnastics tested both my mind and body. On an apparatus, there was only me. Not my competitors. Not my coach. My greatest opponent was always, and would always be, myself.

Control. Power and strength are great, but without control you run into trouble. I employ control in every aspect of my life. Exercise, my free time, and sex. Especially sex.

 

©David S Scott 2016
☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆
☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆
¸.•*´)¸.•*´)¸.•Excerpt from Deep in You♡¸¸.•*´)¸.•*´)
By David S. Scott
$1.99

I placed her glass on the table and took her hand, tugging her hard into me and kissing her. Her hand snaked around my neck while both of mine dropped down onto her ass. I kneaded her round curves, my tongue plunging insistently into her mouth. My body came alive. Tingles raced all over my skin. My cock throbbed for her. She knew it, too. She grinned against my mouth and hummed appreciatively. Her other hand reached between us and found my erection, stroking me through my clothes. Shit. We weren’t going to make it upstairs; I needed her now. Right now. I felt reckless and lightheaded, and it was making me behave in a way that wasn’t normal for me. I had somehow allowed her to take control and I couldn’t have that. My house, my life, my rules. Making a snap decision, I changed direction and almost carried her toward the guest room. Without breaking our kiss, I unbuttoned my shirt and removed my tie. Shrugging them off, I wrenched myself away long enough to pull her shirt over her head, then pulled her back against me. My tongue pressed into her mouth, stroking, rubbing, exploring.

©David S Scott 2016
☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆ 
☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆

 

 

¸.•*´)¸.•*´)¸.•Excerpt from Deep in You♡¸¸.•*´)¸.•*´)
By David S. Scott
$1.99
 

Lily moaned, deep and throaty. “I need you, Xander. Now, please.”

I lined myself up and thrust into her. We both gasped. I had been right; she was incredibly tight, her pussy squeezing me. I paused, buried balls deep inside her. “Did I hurt you?”

She scratched at my back like a tiger while she dug her heels into my ass, encouraging me to move. “I’m fine. Please, Xander…”

I began to move, slow and deliberate at first, quickly gaining speed as we lost ourselves in each other. Lily screamed, her nails raking my back. I moved my forearms to press into her shoulders, allowing me to thrust even deeper, plunge myself even harder, faster. I pivoted my hips to be sure my cock hit her g-spot.

“Oh… God, yes, Xander. Fuck! Just like that,” she moaned. “Like that. Don’t ever stop.”

There it was. “Don’t stop.” Those words had me fighting for my self-control. No way was I stopping until she was finished, no matter how crazy she made me, how much I needed to come. I put my mouth to her ear. “You feel so tight. So perfect. I can’t get enough,” I growled. “I could fuck you again and again, all night long. That sweet cunt is heaven for my cock.”

“I’m so close.”

“Let go, baby. Come for me.” I bit down on her lower lip and thrust myself deep into her as I felt the first tremor wrack her body, her tight pussy squeezing me in rhythmic bursts.

“Yes, oh God, Xander. Oh God, I’m coming.”

I pumped into her twice more, then pushed deep as I could and stilled. My whole body tingled in the split second before my orgasm ripped through me. We rode out our climaxes together, my feathered kisses soft on her lips.

“Xander?”

“Mmm.”

“That was…”

I withdrew myself from her depths and rolled to the side. I pulled off the condom, then gathered her in my arms and kissed her just under her ear. “I know, Lily. I know.”

©David S Scott 2016

☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°• 
☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•

 

 

Book Two of The Phoenix Series
Deeper In You
Genre: Erotic Romance
By David S. Scott
$2.99 or free with KU
Blurb:

I’ve lost everything …

And I mean everything. Once a household name, now just a broken shell. Lily has left me and taken my entire future with her. I just want to sleep and never wake up. Forget love, forget passion. All of it. I’m done.

My Name is Alexander Phoenix, former Olympic gymnast. I was once known as the X-Wing, as the man who flies. Make that flew…

Can I salvage my future and reclaim my place as the man I used to be? Or does fate have something else in store? Haunted by ghosts of the past, I must find the strength to move on and find my path. Broken hearts still beat, right?

I’ve never shied away from challenges. Why should I start now?

©David S Scott 2016

☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆
☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆
¸.•*´)¸.•*´)¸.•Excerpt from Deeper in You♡¸¸.•*´)¸.•*´)
By David S. Scott
$2.99

“You’re so tense, Xander. So tightly wound.” Before I knew what was happening, her hand was on the back of my neck. She rubbed and massaged the base of my neck and the back of my head. I leaned forward, placing my elbows on the table and my face in my hands. Her fingers were tantalizingly cool, and I moaned in spite of myself. I was tense, and her hand on me felt so good. Too good. Her touch meant too much, and I found it harder and harder to remind myself that we could never be more than friends. This wouldn’t do.

“You don’t have to do that,” I murmured. She needed to stop. I liked it far too much. My cock had instantly hardened in response to her touch. I was so turned on, yet knew it was wrong. I considered escaping to the bathroom to splash some water on my face and get a grip, but I knew if I stood, or even leaned back, she’d see my obvious erection. I was held captive here at the table. No escape from her touch.

“I like doing it, though. You seem to be enjoying it, too.”

“What?” I glanced at her, but her expression seemed innocent enough. Almost playful.

“You’re moaning, silly.”

“You have magic hands.” Did she ever. She occasionally scratched at my scalp with her nails. It was so erotic, so sensual. I wanted her to continue forever, while needing her to stop. My cock strained against my pants, so I didn’t dare move. I wished she’d massage that.

©David S Scott 2016

☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆
☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆

 

 

Igniting Passions
By David S. Scott
Genre: Poetry and Short Stories
$0.99
Blurb:

Passion…

It’s what drives us. Connects us. Our passions make us who we are, define who
and what we love.

This is a collection of poetry and prose designed to speak to all the different
types of passion within us.

Let the words found on these pages wash over you. Allow them to move your
spirit and speak to your soul.

Open your hearts and minds for Igniting Passions.


.•°*°•..•°*°•..•°*°•..•°*°•..•°*°•..•°*°•.
Amazon Universal Book Link
.•°*°•..•°*°•..•°*°•..•°*°•..•°*°•..•°*°•.
 
Igniting Passions
By David S. Scott
Genre: Poetry and Short Stories
$0.99
 
¸.•*´)¸.•*´)¸.•Poem from Igniting Passions♡¸¸.•*´)¸.•*´)
By David S. Scott
$0.99

~*~Daydreamer~*~

 

The taste of your lips intoxicates my soul,

Your mouth is as delicious as the finest of wine.

Our tongues dance an erotic tango; vying for control.

Dreams of more to come if I could make you mine.

 

I’d like to peel all your clothes from you,

Allow my eyes to feast on your beautiful form …

If you could read my dark desires, it’s true,

I bet you’d run, or would you give in to the storm?

 

Wish I could feel you tremble at my touch,

Your legs would shake, your toes curled tight.

Nails dug into my flesh, sensations too much,

Climaxes reached, screams silenced by gentle bite.

 

But instead, only your lips shall I kiss,

And dream of a day it shall be like this.

©David S Scott 2016

 

 
☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆
☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆

 

 

 

 

Santa’s Son
By David S. Scott
Genre: Erotic Novella
$0.99
Blurb:

What do you think of when you picture elves? Could they be real? What about other fantasy beings? What about… Santa Claus?

Shawn is accustomed to living life the way he wants to. He has no responsibilities, no one to answer to. He comes and goes as he pleases, traveling the world, looking for fulfillment.

But all that is about to change…

Santa’s sick and getting old. This year, he’ll be replaced by his son. Will you be on the naughty list?

©David S Scott 2016

 
☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆
☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆
¸.•*´)¸.•*´)¸.•Excerpt from Santa’s Son♡¸¸.•*´)¸.•*´)
By David S. Scott
$0.99

Passions have always ruled my family.

Always. My father’s name is Pelznickel, but he has been called many things throughout the millennia. Saint Nicholas. Kris Kringle. Santa Claus.

Yes. That Santa Claus. The man who’s brought joy to the children of the world for thousands of years. People have thought him a child’s story, a myth.

I spared a glance over my shoulder to ensure the redhead was gone and I was alone. Satisfied, I rubbed my right index finger along the side of my nose. A feeling of pins and needles covered me, as if my entire body had lost circulation. In a way, it had. The warm sandy beach I’d been walking on blurred and swirled in my vision, quickly being replaced by my bedroom.

The first few times I’d ever teleported, I’d been convinced I’d stayed still and the world had moved around me. Now I knew better.

Frantic knocking greeted my arrival.

“What is it?” I called.

“Master Schonesgeschenk, your father is looking for you.”

Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I strode to the door. The fat little gnome waiting for me on the other side was dressed in thick green robes with white trim. His long white beard nearly reached his waist.

“Astlin, how many times must I ask you to call me Shawn? It’s just Shawn, I swear.”

©David S Scott 2016

☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆
☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆.•°*°•.☆

 

 

 

David S. Scott’s Bio

David S. Scott is a new author of erotica and erotic romance novels. After finishing his debut novels, Deep In You and its sequel Deeper In You, he is moving on to several other projects, including an erotic paranormal tentatively titled Obsidian Angel. He is in his mid-thirties and happily married, and has a bit of a wicked sense of humor. When not writing, David can be found reading a variety of genres or playing “nerd games” like Dungeons and Dragons with his friends. David loves interacting with people and meeting new friends, so please be sure to follow him on his author page: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorDavidScott

Public Signings:
 
Tampa Indie Author Book Convention
Sunday, July 16th, 2017
CHIC Venue
1339 E. Fletcher Ave
Tampa, FL 33612
 
Reader & Writer Tampa 2017
Saturday, August 19, 2017
12p-4p
Double Tree by Hilton Hotel Tampa Airport – Westshore
4500 West Cypress Street
Tampa, Florida 33607
 
Indie Bookfest 2017
September 28th to Oct 1st, 2017
The Westin Lake Mary, Orlando North
2974 International Parkway,
Lake Mary, Florida 32746
 
To pre-order a signed book for any of the above signings please click the link below. 

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Blog Tour: ‘Sacred & Profane: Priest Erotic Romance’ edited by Torrance Sené

sacred-and-profane

Sacred & Profane: Priest Erotic Romance

edited by Torrance Sené

 

Ten stories of temptation, romance, and blasphemy featuring Sonni de Soto, Piper Denna, Torrance Sené, Charlotte French, Bronwyn Green, Leandra Vane, Mira Stanley, Jordan Monroe, H K Carlton, and Jillian Boyd.

Not even men of the cloth are exempt from God’s greatest gift: Love. In Sacred and Profane: Priest Erotic Romance, you’ll find stories of clergymen stepping outside their vows, pastors weaving divinity into their seductions, nuns and parishioners confessing to their body’s every earthly desire, and more.

Are you aroused by the blasphemous dance of sex and religion? The dangerous edge of eroticism contained within submission to something beyond oneself? The taboo juxtaposition of holy and sensual? Then Sacred and Profane welcomes you.

 

Purchase: Amazon US | Amazon UK | Smashwords | B&N | Kobo | iBooks

Release Date: 17 January 2017

Length: 60,220 words / 186 pages

Available in Print and Digital

Publisher: Sexy Little Pages

ISBN: 9781541148666

ASIN: B01N7JOUB8

Add to Goodreads

Request a free Review Copy here.

“Genuflect” by Sonni de Soto

Father Nicholas has a secret, one he must keep protected. The solace and beauty he finds in the heresy of Donovan’s, a BDSM club that perverts his faith, fills a space in his soul that nothing else can.

Pairing(s): MF

“His Undoing” by Piper Denna

Shasta has a face Pastor Luke cannot resist. Out of all the parishioners, he spends the most time thinking of her. One night, the virgin preacher finds himself unable to escape the temptation that is her, and it turns out she too needs to be alone with him.

Pairing(s): MF

“Temptation Follows” by Torrance Sené

Father Yorke never expected his faith would be tested in the form of Good Samaritan Abby Lewison. But when she comes to him in need of guidance, her desires become his own and blasphemy is embraced.

Pairing(s): MF

“Absolution” by Charlotte French

Burdened with the sins of his parishioners, Father Granger’s spirit and soul are heavy and listless. His salvation lies in an old skeleton key left to him by Father Brennan. Through an otherworldly and taboo encounter, Granger discovers even priests deserve absolution.

Pairing(s): MF

“Father What-a-Waste” by Bronwyn Green

Against her better judgement, Prudence bares her soul in the confessional. But when past and present collide in the form of Father Thomas, she finds herself completely exposed and longing for for more than a few Hail Marys as penance.

Pairing(s): MF

“Shelter” by Leandra Vane

Morgan only goes to church to occasionally placate her mother. On her latest visit, she meets Pastor Buchanan can’t resist pushing his boundaries—and those of his parishioners—with her sex-positive attitude. Through Morgan’s mischief, the pastor soon learns more about his own body’s wants and needs.

Pairing(s): MF

“Taking Mary Beth” by Mira Stanley

After learning about Mary Beth from an inmate he ministered to, former Russian criminal-turned-priest, Father Aleksei discovers his true calling in life: protecting her. Forsaking the priesthood, he comes to her rescue and shows the young woman how all-encompassing love can be.

Pairing(s): MF

“Succumb to Temptation” by Jordan Monroe

After stepping away from his former life as a Dominant, Father Michael joined the priesthood to find solace and meaning. Instead, he is drawn to Claire and her enchanting soprano voice. She stirs a yearning in him he thought he’d left behind.

Pairing(s): MF

“Sin Bin” by H K Carlton

Father Daunté Bennifetto never expected to find the one who got away, but there she was, dancing at a strip club. The Sin Bin. He was sent to bring her back to righteousness, but the Lord works in mysterious ways.

Pairing(s): MF

“Down on My Knees” by Jillian Boyd

Opened and awakened to the earthly lust that lie within her, Sister Josephine is unable to move on from her desires and the priest who stirred them in her one night. When they meet again, will either be strong enough to escape their attraction?

Pairing(s): MF

Extracts

“Genuflect” by Sonni de Soto

Last night, Nicholas had seen yet another report about protest groups of the devoutly faithful who had posted themselves at Donovan’s front and rear entrances to vehemently preach against not only the club’s members, but the businesses that allowed this hedonistic haven to flourish.

“It’s an abomination,” a blonde woman in a snow-white sweater with pretty, serious eyes, had said into the reporter’s microphone, “to allow such an affront to goodness and decency to stand.”

Nicholas knew he had to be careful, had to avoid the cameras and reporters and protesters flanking the main ways. Hand hovering over his naked throat, he missed the feel of his stiff, crisp white collar. He felt exposed without it, even as the light weight of it felt like a leaden lie in his pocket. But it was better this way. A necessary sin. Father Nicholas Bailey knew no one would—no one could—ever understand.

***

He’d come here.

God only knew why.

Nicholas knelt, dropping into a gentle genuflect and made the sign of the cross, before taking a seat in the second row. It should have felt wrong to perform the rituals in this space, to perform the sacred within the profane.

Except it didn’t feel profane.

***

His gut clenched when she stepped into the room, as it always did in that moment, titillation tingling, taboo and thrilling, along his whole body. Not just under the skin, but soul-deep.

***

Nicholas looked too. Watched as her lips slipped into a slow smile, flashing just the barest hint of teeth. “Do you think about kissing her?” Solomon’s own lips pouted as they formed the words, the slight bow of her mouth bending in deliberate dips of lips and teeth and tongue. “Do you imagine the feel of her mouth upon yours?”

Nicholas licked his lips—his tongue slicking across his mouth in time with the man’s—anticipating his answer as if it were a taste stuck on his own skin.

“His Undoing” by Piper Denna

Out of all the parishioners, he’d spent the most time thinking of Shasta, probably more than all the rest combined. And he couldn’t consider it thinking, per se. More like fantasizing. In ways that were completely inappropriate. Many nights he’d sprawled on his back, breathing deeply and imagining what her breasts would look like bare before him, what they’d feel like in his hands.

***

He snuck another peek at those legs as he went by, complete with hot pink polish on her toenails.

Hot pink. Lord help him.

But he held strong and didn’t allow himself another look at those nipples pressing against the ribbed fabric of her tank top. No, that image didn’t need refreshed; it’d be a keeper in his vault now.

She shut the door behind him, and the sound of the deadbolt sliding back into place reverberated through him like a judge’s gavel at sentencing. Someone up there knew what he held in his heart, knew he’d felt like an impostor for years. Others served because they wanted to; he’d chosen the path because his family expected him to.

Still, he’d taken the job; now he must do it.

***

She rose to stand beside him, her soft shoulder warm against his palm. He shouldn’t be touching her. It wasn’t proper. But then her hand covered his and she closed her eyes, nodding. “I’ll wait ’til tomorrow to decide, after we talk. It just…” She ducked her head to the side, nuzzled her velvety cheek against his arm. “To be touched, by a man. Feels so good.” Her voice lowered almost to a moan.

He was beyond hard. His heart pumped like he’d swam a mile; his body burned. This woman he’d wanted for weeks had all but begged for him to help her, to abandon his vow of chastity, his morals. “Shasta.” He had to send her away. If he had any chance of passing this test, she had to leave.

“Kiss me. Just once.” She opened her eyes, stared into his. “Just a kiss. I’ve dreamed of—“

He couldn’t take any more. He lowered his lips to hers, savoring their heat, tasting her sweetness, relishing the freedom in succumbing, however brief. Sweet Joshua, he hadn’t kissed a girl in years, and Shasta definitely knew more than he did. Her tongue had already slipped inside his mouth, drawing him out, pulling his tongue in for the dance he longed to replicate on a larger scale.

“Temptation Follows” by Torrance Sené

Her red hair shone bright across the church’s parking lot—a flame drawing him in among the tempting confections of cupcakes and other treats brought by the congregation to raise money for the youth group. With her hand in every event and function in the small parish, Abby Lewison was a constant at St. Mark’s and in Gavin’s nocturnal thoughts.

You always want what you can’t have, and nothing was more true for a priest. Her large emerald eyes. Her plump pink lips. The way her full hips swayed as she entered the vestibule every Sunday for mass. She was enough to send his own soul in for confession on a near weekly basis.

***

Heat coursed through his body, swelling between his thighs. Oh, Jesus. Her big green eyes met his, and tension grew. He stared as her pupils blew wide, her expression unmistakable. It was impossible to express how she made him feel. How many times had he gotten himself off imagining just this? The pretty woman on her knees, those large eyes, full of unspoken pleas, gazing up at him through long lashes. Abby needed something; that much was clear.

His role was as God’s representative on earth, yes? So, why not help His flock?

Without thinking, he reached down and stroked the backs of his fingers against her cheek, so pink and soft. It was like touching Heaven itself. For more than a decade, he’d been without the softness of a woman. Abby on her knees before him, like some subservient prostrator had his mind and body reeling. She leaned into his touch like a kitten in want of affection.

“I need confession, Father.” The words slipped past her lips in a whisper; a whisper that seemed to say more than she did. “I need to feel clean again.”

***

“Submission to something bigger than oneself gives us peace, yeah?” she replied. “But it’s been so long since I’ve felt that level of solace.”

She had a point. It was why he’d become a priest in the first place. Serving the Church gave him peace. He began to piece together what he knew of her. “Do you think that’s why you’re so helpful around the community?”

“When you think about it…” She chuckled darkly. “God is the ultimate Dom. All of us on our knees, serving him, praising him. Must be one hell of a power trip.” She covered her mouth. “Sorry. That was probably extremely blasphemous. I just, I mean, giving up control to a Dom isn’t unlike surrendering to God.”

His cock pressed against his fly. What a wonderfully dirty woman, and what a sick man he was for becoming aroused by such heresy. “I can see how that parallel can be made.” He rubbed his chin. “What exactly is it that you’re seeking, Abby?”

***

Their proximity was almost too much. It offered an immaculate angle of her breasts, full and begging to be touched. God, help him, that’s exactly what he did, trailing a finger over the cross resting just above curvature of her bosom. His cock gave a twitch despite the blasphemy. How would her creamy skin taste? What shade would her nipples be?

***

Gavin took the flogger, combing the thin rubber strands with his fingers and caressing the strap handle. This was what his sweet, dirty Abby liked to be beaten with. He couldn’t wait to see what sort of patterns would erupt over her skin when he struck her.

***

His gaze danced over her as she knelt there, eyes closed, head bowed. He watched the soft rise and fall of her breasts, admiring their fullness and shape. “As penance, you will allow your body to be stripped bare and beaten. Do you consent to this, Abby?” He needed to be absolutely certain she wanted it.

“Yes, Father.” She opened her eyes, meeting his. “My body was made to serve God. I do not fear what He asks of me.”

“Absolution” by Charlotte French

A flash of white satin tumbled over a corner of the altar and into the candlelight. Granger watched, entranced, as a woman emerged from the darkness, long black hair flowing over her shoulders, down to her knees. Her skin was cocoa brown, gleaming perfect and smooth.

“Miss?” he asked. “How did you get in here?”

The woman smiled faintly and raised her hands out to him. The white satin draped around her whispered and hushed like water as she came towards him, almost as if she was floating. Her hands came to rest on either side of his face, warm and gentle. Granger sighed at the contact, the comfort that seeped into him. A cloud of heady fragrance—rose and jasmine and honeysuckle—swirled around him, drawing his eyes closed…

“Your soul is heavy,” she said. “Why didn’t you come to see me sooner?”

***

Eve placed a finger against his lips. “Anyone, man or woman, who works with sin and guilt and the darkness of the soul will come to me in time.”

She removed her hands and Granger stifled a groan as the cold air left by her absence wrapped its icy fingers around him again. Without warning, Eve peeled the white satin from her body like a single rose petal. It fluttered to rest against the altar in a billow of fabric. For the span of one thunderous heartbeat, Granger couldn’t help but stare at the generous swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips.

Then he snapped his head to the side, his eyes averted, his face blazing hot.

***

Her breath coasted up the side of his throat, and her tongue flicked out along the shell of his ear. Granger shivered, and he gritted his teeth when his cock began to strain painfully against his pants.

“Seamus,” Eve said, “doesn’t your Bible say that God is love?”

“Not like… not like this. This is lust. This isn’t love.”

She trailed a hand down his chest. Granger sucked in a hiss of air.

“God give me strength,” he prayed.

As much as Granger’s brain screamed to run, he couldn’t will his body to move. Strange though this whole thing was, he didn’t want to leave Eve or the comfort of her presence. When he was with her, he no longer felt like he was drowning under the onslaught of confessions. When she touched him, so gently, so carefully, he could breathe a little easier for the first time since Father Brennan’s death.

At that realization, Seamus slowly opened his eyes and met Eve’s dark gaze.

***

Eve stepped even closer to him, eliminating what little space remained between them. Granger stifled a groan as her hips came in contact with his cock, the fabric of his pants grating against his sensitive skin. She slid her hands up his chest, over his shoulders and came to rest against his cheeks.

“That’s what I do, Seamus,” she said. “The confessions you’ve been carrying are too much for one person to handle, you know that. You see that every day. Now, let me help you, as you have helped others.”

“But… I don’t help them like this,” Granger said.

His protests were so faint now, his resistance slipping away the longer he stayed with Eve. The feel of her large, firm breasts pressed to his chest. The smell of her skin, sweet as honey. The soothing way she touched him, kissed him, looked at him.

“There’s more than one way to help people,” she said, nuzzling his neck, dragging her teeth along his jawline. She loosened his priest’s collar and let it fall to the floor before she popped the first two buttons open on his shirt to gain access to his throat.

“Father What-a-Waste” by Bronwyn Green

He’d only said two words, but those two words, in that deep, gravelly voice, laced with poorly-concealed amusement settled low in her belly.

She stared through the latticed screen at the shadowy figure on the other side. “Look, Father… it’s been a while.”

“I see.”

There it was, again. That hint of amusement that left her a bit flustered and a bit aroused. And that was probably another transgression she’d need to list before this exercise in humiliation was over.

“Has it been so long that you’ve forgotten you’re meant to list your sins and ask forgiveness for them?” he asked, no trace of humor in his voice. In fact, there was a tinge of dominance there that didn’t help her arousal issue, at all.

***

She pushed to her feet, shoved her way out of the elaborately carved wooden box and stood staring at the other door, waiting for it to open. She told herself she was completely prepared to see him, again, but when the hinges creaked, she realized that she was the worst kind of liar—a stupid one. There was no way she was prepared to see him, again. But unless she could convince her feet to run far and fast, that was exactly what was going to happen.

Before another second of indecision passed, she no longer had a choice. She was staring at the boy she’d given her virginity to. The boy who’d insisted that, someday, they’d get married. The boy who’d broken her fucking heart.

He wasn’t a boy, anymore. That was for damn sure. His voice was so much deeper, now, she hadn’t recognized it, at all. He didn’t look as if he’d gotten any taller, but he’d definitely filled out in the last fifteen years. He was clad in the traditional black suit, black shirt, and white collar, along with a short purple stole, but it was clear that his shoulders had broadened—a lot. She caught a glimpse of his long, strong-looking hands before he shoved then into his pockets. Hands that she’d just recently imagined on her body.

Taking a deep breath, she forced her gaze upward. He wore his nearly black hair much shorter than she ever recalled seeing it, and a neatly-trimmed beard now covered his gorgeous face. Somehow, he was even hotter with the facial hair. He still had the longest, curliest black eyelashes she’d ever seen. Lashes that framed eyes so impossibly and achingly blue, she could lose herself in them if she wasn’t careful.

***

She could hear the smile in his voice as he slowly followed her. She couldn’t decide if his fondness for her grandmother warmed her or just pissed her off more. All this time, she’d told herself she was long over the boy who’d completely gutted her when she was nineteen. But as uncomfortable and suddenly angry as she was, she’d clearly been lying to herself. And worse than angry, she was angry and aroused. Which was never a good combination. It usually led to utterly amazing sex followed by regret and recriminations.

Doing her best to distract herself from her rapidly dampening panties, she put some distance between her and Thomas. She climbed up the marble steps leading to the sanctuary and trailed her fingertips across the cold stone altar. There was also the hope that if he were far enough away from her, he wouldn’t notice that her nipples had pebbled into needy little buds.

***

He shrugged. “Every once in a while, I like to go old school.”

“Does this mean I can expect you to bust out the wooden paddle?” She’d intended it to be a joke, but it fell flat.

He stared into her eyes for far too long a time, as the air slowly charged between them. Then, finally, so quietly she wasn’t sure she heard properly, he said, “Only if you ask me nicely.”

Her lips parted, and her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t tear her gaze from him if she wanted to. His eyes were locked on hers and full of need that appeared almost painful.

It seemed to match the ache that throbbed through her body and settled deep in her cunt.

“Thomas…”

He didn’t say anything, just continued to watch her with an air of desperation. Finally, he murmured, “Now would be a great time for you to slap me or tell me to go to hell or something.”

She tried to give him what he wanted, but she couldn’t force herself to say the words. She couldn’t do anything but return his stare, knowing she must look just as hungry and full of want as he did.

“Please get the paddle, Father,” she whispered.

“Shelter” by Leandra Vane

Morgan knew he saw her. Even in the back row, even behind her dark glasses, she had trapped his interest. She had not set foot in a church for twelve years and had never seen Pastor Buchanan speak. Still Morgan knew when he stumbled over the passage of Galatians in his sermon, it was because of her.

***

Morgan watched the pastor for any signs of nerves or hesitation on the short walk to his office. If he was put off by Morgan’s slanted steps as she leaned on her cane, he gave no indication. He walked with his hands in his pockets. She thought if he unclasped the top button or two off his dark dress shirt he would look a lot happier. They arrived to his office before either of them could make small talk.

***

Pastor Buchanan was leaning into the conversation now, breathing in her words. The scent of Morgan’s vanilla body spray mingled with the peppered tone of his aftershave. Morgan knew the intimacy unnerved him, but she had presented him with such a strange situation, and it gave him permission to stay.

***

“Well… you’re not Catholic.” Morgan shrugged. “Aren’t you allowed to date, get married?”

“Yes, but I do not plan to.”

“Why not?”

“To borrow a term you used, perhaps I also feel like damaged goods.”

“Ah.” Morgan nodded. “Then perhaps the saint and the sinner have some common ground after all, Pastor Buchanan.”

“You can call me John.”

Morgan’s lips parted. They both glanced down at the same time to see their hands were treacherously close to touching. John Buchanan pulled his hand away and sat back in his chair. Morgan sighed. The moment was shattered.

***

The silence grew between them and, for a breath of a moment, Morgan thought her confession would not be forgiven.

But then John spoke in a whisper, “Perhaps we should do something about that.”

***

John closed his mouth, and Morgan saw his jaw line was tense. She ran her fingertips down to the hem of his shirt. “Let me.” Morgan pulled the fabric up over his torso, and he moved along to let her take his shirt off. She tossed it silently away and swiftly slipped his shorts from his hips. He kicked them off along with his shoes and stepped to stand inches from her.

His naked body was like a secret Morgan was beholden to be told. His strength was in his arms. His vulnerability was the curve of his abdomen, the muscles of his thighs, the pleasure bringing rise to his cock as Morgan looked him over. She smiled inwardly at the power between naked and clothed. In a way it emphasized his purity and her deviance, especially with her black lace and the tattooed roses blooming on her skin.

“Taking Mary Beth” by Mira Stanley

In my head I accept the massive coincidence that this is the same Mary Beth the inmate told me about. I also accept that for the first time in fourteen years, I’m tempted to break my vows.

The eighteen years between us crosses my mind as I imagine having her beneath me without all those clothes between us. Those years are insignificant. As is the man I suspect will smack her when he gets her home for stopping to look at a stranger in biking leathers and a priest’s collar.

***

I take her chin in my hand and have her look at me. “We’re starting over today, you and me. We’re going to do it together.” I take off my collar while she watches. “I’ve worn this in commitment to the church for fourteen years. Now I’m committing myself to you.” The collar goes in the pocket of my leather coat, where I trade it for a ring box. “Most men court a woman before marrying her, but I’m not like most men. And you’re not like most women. I knew it from the second I saw you. Be my bride, Mary Beth, and I’ll give you every one of your dreams or die trying.”

***

She’s never been kissed before. I feel it in the way her body stiffens at first. I feel it in the way she melts against me after a few seconds. I feel it in the tentative strokes of her tongue over mine as I get a little carried away.

Hotel guests are staring at us. A man in a suit clears his throat. He can go to hell, for all I care. It’s not my job to care anymore. All I want to do for the rest of my life is care for Mary Beth.

***

Her lower lip is caught between her teeth. Her eyelashes make a fan over her cheeks as she watched my hands.

“I’m going to take what’s mine,” I tell her as I spread the fabric. “And I want you to take what’s yours.”

She exhales past parted lips. She’s nervous, but her pupils are dilated with arousal as I caress her breasts through a tattered, full-coverage bra. Tomorrow, I’m taking her shopping for new lingerie and clothing. She’s getting every single thing she wants. But the rest of today belongs to me. I’m going to get what I’ve been salivating for since I first laid eyes on her—what I’ve been waiting for, it seems, my whole life.

“Succumb to Temptation” by Jordan Monroe

Father Michael was at a loss for words. This was quite an admission. He felt blood rush to a place that was too human for his task. Still, he was tempted to know which priest had caught the woman’s eyes. “Tell me about this priest.”

***

Claire was kneeling in one of the pews in the middle of the sanctuary. Her back was rigid, evidence of a lifetime of penance before the altar. Her long red hair was in a braid that trailed down her back, terminating at the sloping curve of her bottom. Father Michael watched her chest, large and fully developed, rise and fall with her breathing. Her pink, full lips moved in recitation of her prayers; he suddenly found himself wondering what those lips would feel like on parts of his body. Beneath his hands, his felt his erect cock twitch; that was his signal to leave the church and ensconce himself in the small parish home.

***

Claire’s voice was heaven-sent. He knew she was rehearsing for the church’s performance of the fourteen-movement composition on Good Friday. Her vibrato stirred him to the very depths of his soul; he felt something else stirring within him as well. He closed his eyes, recognizing the stab of temptation piercing his heart. Before he could stop it, he imagined what she would look like naked kneeling before him, her innocent blue eyes begging for absolution, among other things. He bit his lower lip and resolved to face his thoughts head-on.

***

Touching the tip of the phallus, he shuddered, wondering what it would look like between Claire’s creamy thighs. He bit his lower lip, jammed the dildo back inside its bag, and shoved it into the drawer that held his socks. Sleep did not come easy for him that night.

“Sin Bin” by H K Carlton

Father Daunté Bennifetto collapsed against his pillows, gasping for breath. Sweat covered his thrumming body. Warm sticky ejaculate streaked his palms.

It wasn’t exactly how it had happened. His mind had fine-tuned the memory over time, and his lascivious imagination had done the rest. That one sexual encounter was supposed to expunge his wicked urges, but it had done the opposite and only whet his appetite for more.

***

Even with prayer, he couldn’t curb his urges.

Dressed all in black and with several days’ growth of beard, to help obscure his identity, he pulled his baseball cap low and entered the Sin Bin.

This visit had nothing to do with making contact with Camillah or attempting to reform her. He needed to see her, in the flesh. He was obsessed with the naked female form. Especially Cam’s.

***

Strutting down the catwalk, she walked between the rapt patrons and moved within feet of the man in black. It was the closest she’d ever been to him.

***

His words caused a sudden blood rush to her outer labia, making it ache deliciously. She relinquished the flogger into his care. He started trailing the strands over her back and buttocks, lulling her with rhythmic massage.

Even though she knew it was coming, the first strike made her flinch.

***

Frustrated, she wiggled. One of the strands laced around and caught her labia. She gasped at the sensation and arched like a cat. It was as good as she’d suspected.

“You like that,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

***

Half-naked and vulnerable, at his mercy within the church, was the most wickedly arousing scene he ever could have imagined.

“Down on My Knees” by Jillian Boyd

It was still strange to see him without his black shirt and dog-collar combo. Not that the white shirt and jeans didn’t suit him. It was just… strange. The man who had been my other, more earthly, guiding light on this path. The one who had listened to so many of my deepest confessions, patiently, without a trace of judgement. The one who found in me a kindred spirit, perhaps. Someone who would listen to his own confessions, the ones he daren’t speak of to anyone else.

Campbell Morgan, the priest. Campbell Morgan, the Dominant. The two most important sides of his life. Two that couldn’t ever meet; sides he had to choose between.

***

Just under my right knee, visible only when you really looked for it, was the raised remnant of a scar. It didn’t hurt me… physically. But in my mind, every time I took to my knees to pray, regardless of whether I was alone or with the other sisters, its presence always took me back to that night. The night Campbell found himself at the crossroads between the two sides.

The one night we had together.

I was there in my mind now. In flesh, I was kneeling on a hassock for a moment of silence away from the din of the picnic. But in spirit…

My eyes were fixed on the large, ornate cross above the altar, on the stillness of Christ the Lord. But my thoughts drifted back to that one night.

***

Telling Campbell I wanted to be spanked and tied, that I wanted to submit and kneel at someone’s feet and play, was the easy bit, in hindsight. The harder bit came when he admitted to me, tears in his eyes and cracks in his voice, that he wanted to be the person whose feet I kneeled at.

That was two months ago.

 

 

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Blog Tour: ‘Memorable Gifts Series’ by Diane Thorne

I am so excited to announce the Memorable Gifts blog tour!

MEMORABLE GIFTS

The erotic menage Memorable Gifts series by Diane Thorne includes two books:
A Gift to Remember and Another Gift to Remember.

Get your copy of each on Amazon today!

synopsis

A Gift to Remember

One man. Two women. A birthday surprise he will never forget.

Carol has spent the last five years working as an assistant for her boss, Thomas Barrett. She enjoys her job, and is a good friend to his wife, Lynn. Every year Lynn asks Carol for assistance in obtaining a gift for Thomas’s birthday. With his big fortieth arriving in a week, Carol expects she’ll need to snoop around the office for Lynn. To Carol’s surprise, Lynn already has an idea for Thomas’s present, and it’s one he will never forget.

Lynn invites Carol to join her and Thomas in a menage a trois. Although shocked, Carol considers such a rare opportunity to broaden her sexuality. But if she joins her boss and his wife in the bedroom, will Carol be able to continue a relationship with them? Moreover, can she keep her job working for Thomas?

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Another Gift to Remember

Fulfilling fantasies with two hot lovers is the best gift for any man.

Thomas Barrett has it all. He’s a part owner of a marketing firm with his best friend of twenty years, Andy. In addition to having a successful career, Thomas enjoys the love of two beautiful women: his wife, Lynn, and his assistant, Carol. He couldn’t be happier with life.

Tasked with finding a gift idea for Andy’s fortieth birthday, Thomas comes up with a perfect one. Not only will it please Andy, Thomas is certain his idea will provide great pleasure to Lynn and Carol. Thomas wants his favorite naughty women to bring Andy into their love nest. But will Lynn and Carol be willing to have sex with Thomas’s best friend? Better yet, can Andy maintain a working and sexual relationship with them?

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Giveaway runs the duration of the blog tour (September 26 – October 2). Good luck!

excerpt

Smiling, Lynn faced her husband. “Carol and I have agreed to express ourselves freely tonight. We want you to do the same. Anything is acceptable.”

Thomas’s brows shot up. “What does that mean?”

“It means we’re not holding back, and neither should you,” Carol said.

She turned to face Lynn and placed her hand on the side of Lynn’s face. Leaning toward her, Carol brought Lynn’s mouth to meet hers. Lynn kissed her back and slid her tongue between Carol’s lips. Heat swirled within Carol while her loins ached for attention. She clenched her thighs. Gently and tenderly, Carol played with Lynn’s tongue but she held control of the urges steadily rising within her. The night was young and she wanted to take plenty of time to play later. She pried her mouth from Lynn’s, then they both smiled and looked at Thomas.

“If you want to kiss or touch Carol, then do it. I won’t stop you, nor will I stop her,” Lynn said. “If I want to kiss and touch Carol, I will.”

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about the author

Diane Thorne is an erotic romance writer living in Indiana. She writes in a variety of genres such as Contemporary, Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Erotic Romance and Menage a Trois. When she’s not slaving away at her day job, she creates erotic adventures with hot and seductive men. Reader beware, she is not responsible for any titillation, increased temperatures, or hormonal stirrings. Blame her characters and read responsibly.

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