Got Vikings? How about thirteen of them, all well researched as well as (ahem) well hung, all sexy as hell, and all ready to entertain you this summer?

If this sounds enticing, check out the newly released anthology , edited by New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Delilah Devlin. At only $0.99, it’s definitely easy to “plunder” (and it’s free if you’re a Kindle Unlimited subscriber.) Best of all from my point of view, the Vikings of this collection aren’t just pillaging coastal villages. They’re exploring, acting as mercenaries and merchants and sometimes just going about their lives on shore. Here’s the official description:

Vikings. Fierce warriors who terrified all in their path as they raided and marauded, enslaved and murdered during Europe’s Dark Ages.

But these rough men from a rugged land were also sailors, explorers, craftsmen, and highly sought after mercenaries.

Conquests: An Anthology of Smoldering Viking Romance will transport you to the realm of fantasy where such fearsome and loyal men are relentless potent lovers. Whether the lady of the keep demands a few stolen hours of pleasure with a captured Viking warrior or the handsome Northman is the one seducing his captive, you will find plenty of lusty adventures in settings as far-flung as Ireland, Iceland, Norway, Byzantium, Moorish Spain and the New World.

Let your fantasies run wild to a time when men wearing bearskin shirts and shining iron helms could capture a fierce maiden’s heart!

The Captive by Lizzie Ashworth – A captive turns captor when the lady of an English keep commands a few stolen hours of pleasure with a captured Viking warrior

Ásgeirr and the Tree of Life by Mina Murray – Danger and desire collide when a wounded Viking warrior washes ashore on a remote Irish island

A Varangian Guest by Melissa Fuchs – When her brother returns to Constantinople in the company of a warrior from the far north, a widow finds herself drawn to him with irresistible desire

How to Train Your Skjaldmaer by Delilah Devlin – A Viking jarl tricked into marrying a shieldmaiden sets out to tame his fiery bride

The Viking’s Prize by Emma Jay – Treachery and desire greet a Viking warrior who travels to the coast of Newfoundland to broker peace with the indigenous tribes

There for the Taking by Nym Nix – A captive is seduced by her Viking captor as he couples with an amorous shieldmaiden whilst she is left to watch

Sweet Silk by Megan Mitcham – A Viking returns to Persia years after saving a merchant from certain death to retrieve the child-bride awarded him–yet never claimed

Little Warrior by Evey Brett – A woman braves a pair of daunting shieldmaidens and her father’s wrath in order to take her sister’s place as bride to a Viking warrior

Protecting Her by Regina Kammer – A Byzantine noblewoman seeking refuge in a monastery loses her heart to an invader when Constantinople is sacked by the Rus

Enslaved by Elle James – A conquering Viking vows to tame his sassy Celtic slave–if she doesn’t kill him first

The Oak and the Ale by Beatrix Ellroy – A businesswoman trying to secure trade routes for her family instead finds love with a crippled warrior

New Words by Teresa Noelle Roberts – An Andalusian Arab poet learns that her new Northman husband is more than just a handsome barbarian

The Needle and the Strap by Bibi Rizer – A young man hasn’t lived up to the Viking standards of his brave and ruthless kinsmen–until he rescues a wild and wicked shieldmaiden from a burning ship

Links:

Buy the book; you know you want to
Check out our Viking-themed Pinterest board (history and shirtless warriors!)
Join our Facebook Group for fans of Viking romance.

The finalists for the Golden Flogger Award have been announced…and Out of Control didn’t make the cut. Disappointing, but not a surprise. It was a solid field, and several authors I adore didn’t make the finals either. On the other hand, my TBR list grew again, since I have to check out the ones who made the grade.

But wait! I’m still in the running for a mini Golden Flogger. Three of the four finalist anthologies contain one of my stories. The award will go to the editor of these fine books (and I’m happy to let DL King or Alison Tyler take the credit, since editing a fine anthology is much more work than writing one good story). But I’ll still know I contributed a bit to the book’s success.

That may not call for Veuve Clicquot.

But I’ll certainly raise a glass of something tasty and bubbly in my editor’s honor if we win. Alas, I’ll be on my back deck, not in Venice. But my back deck, next to the fire pit, is a wonderful place to be on a summer night.

Cheers! in Venice

Welcome to the Summer Cafe blog hop, brought to you by the Science Fiction Romance Brigade. This week’s theme is Supernova Hot, so expect spicy excerpts from sexy books. Please click the picture above for more information on all the lovely posts (many with recipes!) And read on for an excerpt from my new science fiction romance Thrill-Kinky (Chronicles of the Malcolm, book 1).

There isn’t a lot of food talk in Thrill-Kinky. It’s a fast and furious outer-space spy caper. As soon as the human heroine, space-freighter mechanic Rita, finds the gorgeous, winged Drax Jalricki–a covert operative whose mission was compromised–injured in a waste bin, things swirl out of control quickly. Rather than enjoying lovely meals (or even grabbing mediocre ones on the go), they’re experiencing flyer chases between tall buildings, evasive tactics in the middle of a crowded alien “festival of love and desire”, daring escapades and dangerous villains.

And having crazy, hide-in-plain-sight sex. Their first kiss might be a way of blending in with the crowd–at a festival that celebrates sexuality, a little snogging makes you inconspicuous–but Rita and Drax discover they have a quirk in common. They’re both adrenaline junkies, “thrill-kinky” in 26th-century slang. Only in their case, it turns out to be an actual kink for sex in risky situations, not just a fondness for crazy flying and fast zipbikes.

But in keeping with the “cafe” theme, I’m going to give you a snippet of a quieter moment, when, at rare moment when no one’s shooting at them, Rita and Drax try to have an actual date and deal with whether or not they actually have a future together:

“As much as you’d grace the dining room in that dress, we could get room service. I made you promises the other day that I’d very much like to keep, if you’re still interested. The ceiling’s not that high, but the grav-control is excellent.”

“Interested, yes. Convinced it’s a good idea, no.” She stretched up and kissed him, not on the lips, but on the cheek that still felt like it bore a faint imprint of her hand. “So we’ll eat in the restaurant and you tell me your story. Then we’ll see about those other promises.”

The restaurant might have been the most brilliant one on New Tokyo—certainly it was fancier than anywhere Rita would normally eat—but it was hard to pay attention to the food when simply watching Drax’s mouth move was so fascinating. She ate. She even took a few notes on her com-pad so she could tell Mik about the meal later; he’d teased her when she’d let him know she’d be eating with Drax instead of joining the crew’s celebratory dinner that her meal couldn’t possibly be as good as the one they’d be enjoying, “but her company was tasty enough to make up for it”. She knew the fish was incredibly fresh, and real, not synth-fish, which might be chemically identical, but didn’t have the same texture no matter what they did in the lab. She recognized the preparations and presentation were upscale and refined. She knew the restaurant’s décor was elegant and she realized, because there was something about it on the menu, that it reflected the traditions of the area of Old Earth where the ancestors of most New Tokyo residents originated.

Yet, none of that mattered. Not with Drax sitting across the table from her, holding her hand whenever he could.

Not with the story he unfolded.

I’m not going to share more of Drax’s story. That gives away too much of the plot. But I am going to give you a bit of the hot stuff…

He stopped her words with a kiss that came close to stopping her brain as well. His wings and hands caressed her breasts. She gave herself up to the kiss.

She traced the lines and ridges of his muscled back. So different from anyone else she’d been with, because of the wings. So right. She’d only seen him fly for a few minutes, and that awkwardly, dragged down by injury, but those muscles told the story. The muscles and the wings, all those soft yet surprisingly stiff feathers covering still more muscle. He was so strong. He would be magnificent in flight. And soon, she’d be flying with him.

She made a strangled noise into his mouth as their tongues explored each other’s mouths. No, not explored, ravaged, like early explorers pillaging a virgin planet, but with finesse rather than ignorance. Those wonderfully textured and surprisingly agile wingtips danced over her breasts. She couldn’t remember the last time her nipples had felt like this, like tiny nubs of living fire.

She could remember the last time she felt this alive, but that was because it wasn’t long ago. That awful, wonderful, nearly fatal but definitely magical day and night on San’bal. Only this was better because the odds were good it would happen again.

She hated to stop touching the wonder that was Drax’s back. But there was so much more she wanted to explore. Wanted to find the hardness of his cock. Stroke it. Taste it. Guide it inside her. What size would he give her tonight? Not that it mattered, because he’d make it good. Perfect.

His hands moved off her breasts, but she barely had time to register disappointment. Drax raised her skirt to stroke her thighs and ass but not stroke her aching clit or fill her cunt, which was starting to feel as lonely as the vast emptiness of space.

This is where I confess that while I’m a good cook who makes ambitious meals on a regular basis, I haven’t made much Japanese food. Sushi, in particular, is as much art as food and as such I find it daunting. I can make delicious meals, but elegant-looking ones? Not so much. I lack the patience for elaborate presentation.

On the other hand, I have made this pretty and refreshing Scattered Sushi Rice Salad (recipe by Mollie Katzen, originally in the cookbook Still Life with Menu).  Still Life with Menu suggests, “Serve this special dish to someone you love. The message will be clear.” I can imagine Drax, who’s more sophisticated than Rita, recognizing this dish and ordering for her for that reason.

On New Tokyo, I’m sure some of the vegetables would be exotic ones native to that planet, unknown on Old Earth. But the local chefs will still use ginger and proper sushi rice. I can’t imagine the original settlers leaving Old Earth without these important ingredients.

1. Rinse the rice in a strainer and put in a saucepan with the water and mirin or sherry. Bring to a boil, cover, lower heat to a simmer, and cook undisturbed until tender (10 to 12 minutes).
2. Remove rice from heat, uncover, and let stand another 10 minutes. Meanwhile, combine vinegar, sugar, and salt in a small bowl and stir until sugar dissolves. (Easier if you heat the vinegar first.)
3. Spread the rice in a long, shallow pan (like a 9 X 13-inch pan) and fluff it with a fork. Pour in the vinegar solution and mix gently. To help cool it down, you can fan it with a newspaper or a magazine.
4. Meanwhile, scramble the egg in a little of the oil. Add a splash more sherry if you like. Remove the egg to a plate, and cut into small pieces. Alternately, make the egg into a thin omelet, then slice into thin strips.
5. Add the egg, plus all remaining ingredients, to the rice and mix gently but thoroughly. Transfer to a serving bowl, and serve at room temperature or cold.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

It’s the first day of summer if you’re north of the equator–the perfect time to think about heat waves and of course really hot books that are perfect for sultry beach reading. And if you’re below the equator, winter is starting, so friends in Australia, New Zealand and such climes might want some “warming” reading of the sort that leads one to snuggle up to one’s partner and get into some sweaty, fun trouble.

If you’re looking for hot, you’ve coming to the right place! All week, June 21-28, the Heat Wave Giveaway blog hop will feature naughty romance excerpts and better yet, each participating author will be giving away fun prizes to commenters.

Be sure to visit all the participants for more romantic and sexy reads and more fun prizes. There’s a full list with links at the bottom of this post.

Because the Summer Solstice is also our wedding anniversary, I’m feeling especially generous. One lucky commenter will receive my latest release, erotic science fiction romance Thrill Kinky, and also Rain at Midsummer, a fantasy romance featuring seasonal sex magic.

Want to know more about the books? Of course you do! And comment if you want to win ebook versions of them both!

Blurb:

Sexual freefall is like a game of chicken, except the first one to let go wins.

Humans may have expanded to the stars, but they still have the annoying need to work for a living. Which is why Rita, crew member of the space freighter Malcolm, is stuck collecting recyclable slag rather than attending her favorite festival celebrating love and sexuality.

Things go from boring to interesting when she discovers a badly injured man who’s been thrown into a recycling bin to die. The catch, he’s gorgeous, winged, and naked.

Drax Jalricki, reformed (mostly) art thief and reluctant covert operative, is on an undercover mission to protect three planets when someone in his own government brands him a traitor. By virtue of association, Rita and her crew are going down with him.

From their first, hide-in-plain-sight quickie, the erotic spark between Rita and Drax is fueled by danger and adrenaline. But their growing suspicion that there’s more to their connection than lust may not matter if they don’t live through the night.

Warning: Hero and heroine who straddle the line of criminal behavior—and definitely violate public indecency statutes. Exhibitionist, dangerous sex. Dark, sordid pasts. Wild risk-taking. Giggly cat-girl sidekick who’s not just another pretty…tail. And the greatest risk of all: true love

Excerpt:

Definitely something in the danger-as-aphrodisiac theory, because in a fetid alley, with the law and outlaws both after them and her no doubt out of both a job and a home when the guys found out she’d dumped the slag and abandoned the floater, Rita was getting more turned on than she ever remembered being. She’d been excitable to start with, from the kiss, and from simply being around Drax’s dangerous good looks, but now she could feel herself getting slick, hot, ready for the cock that she could now feel all too well against her bare skin.

And his wings—marling stars, she’d never felt anything like the soft, sensual caress of all those feathers against her back, her ass. So good. His hands gripped and kneaded, and his wings stroked and soothed, and all the while he was kissing her, exploring her mouth with his tongue, sending sparks down the connections from her lips to the mouth of her sex. Her common sense told her they needed to move, couldn’t take the time to play there when the overpriced thugs in the Fiero might show up at any second.

Her common sense lost the argument with her libido.

Did they pump pheromones in the air for Kenu Aram, or was Drax just that good?

Maybe she was more thrill-kinky than she’d ever guessed, or possibly just that horny. She didn’t want to calculate how long her most recent dry spell had lasted. Things were depressing enough with people shooting at them and the Malcolm’s best contract in ages turning out to be some kind of complicated larceny that would leave them as the obvious suspects for the theft or worse if they weren’t careful and broke if they were.

Maybe it wasn’t so illogical to be tempted to give in to pleasure in a world gone radioactive even by the high standards set by life on board the Malcolm.

She squirmed against him, wanting more, needing more. Begging for more with little, inarticulate noises breathed into his mouth because she didn’t want to stop kissing him long enough to speak.

With all Drax’s injuries, she was afraid to touch him other than with her lips, afraid to cause him further pain, until he moved one of her hands to his nipple. Already a taut little peak, it stiffened further under her touch as she caressed with light strokes, then, when he seemed ready, with firmer ones, rolling it between her fingers.

Not all of him had been hurt. At least one area was fine, one she’d dearly love to touch. Her other hand traced down his chest, skimming lightly in deference to his injuries. Skin like hot silk—real biosilk, not synthsilk, because they did feel different even if they were supposed to be chemically identical—covering steel. No, over something more valuable and beautiful than steel, something like that gold alloy they made on Xylac, a precious metal harder than titanium.

But when she reached his cock, she knew she’d found something more precious yet. It had looked promising while soft, but like just about everyone in the galaxy who liked to fuck penis-endowed people, she’d been disappointed that way before.

Not this time.

Buy Links: Samhain / Amazon / B&N / Kobo /All Romance eBooks / iBooks (iTunes)

Blurb:

An escaped slave daunted by freedom. A nobleman fighting his destined birthright. Their love defies logic, but when the spirits of the land speak, you’d better listen.

Nikos curses the day his brother died and left him as Lord of Thermanae. What’s an educated man to do in a place so backward his tenants expect the Lord and Lady of the estate to bring rain through sex-magic? Jaenna, a runaway Kulchu slave, curses the fate that forced her to flee a murderous master to the neighboring Soranian Empire. Freedom means frightening choices for a woman whose entire life has been spent serving men’s sexual whims, and she can’t communicate with the spirits of the land enough to work the healing magic that might earn her a respectable place here.

The forbidden desire that burns between Nikos and Jaenna could save them both, if they see beyond what they think they know. But it takes desperate need—and advice from a madwoman who may be crazy like a fox—for Nikos to see that magic isn’t merely a metaphor and Jaenna to learn that love is the most powerful magic of all.

Excerpt:

Nikos sighed contentedly and ducked his head under the water, using his fingers to loosen the dust and sweat.

He popped back up, tossed the wet hair out of his eyes—and found himself staring at Jaenna.

Who was naked, and looked just as good that way as he’d imagined.

Better, even.

Her big, dark nipples begged to be touched. Her legs seemed to go on forever, but they didn’t. They soared up to round, voluptuous hips, the kind a man could hold onto forever. And between those long legs?

Between her legs she was bare, not a hair to be seen.

If he’d thought about it, he’d have said it would make a grown woman look like a little girl who’d blundered into his bath time and was gawking at naked Lord Nikos before she squealed an apology and ran off. Definitely a joy-killer.

Instead, it was delicious, revealing dark rose, pouting sex lips that certainly weren’t a girl’s. Definitely a woman’s, and an aroused woman’s at that, puffy and slick-looking, as if she’d been having erotic thoughts. Her clit peeked out between them.

It was all he could do not to jump out of the tub so he would press his face there and lick and suckle until she screamed.

No…she was clearly offering an invitation, but that would still be a little abrupt. A civilized man at least said hello first, even during the festivals, when you were expected to have sex with anyone who caught your fancy.

“Master would like his back washed?” the Kulchu woman said, her voice deferential and cautious, but throaty, promising untold delights in addition to the simple pleasure of having his back scrubbed.

Those delights would have to remain untold, he informed himself sternly, for all sorts of good reasons. That didn’t mean, though, that he couldn’t enjoy the more innocent pleasure of having a bath-servant for once.

He was a grown man. He could control himself, at least until Jaenna was gone and he could let his own hands and imagination do what he couldn’t, in good conscience, let Jaenna do.

“Please. That would be lovely,” he said. He leaned forward, exposing more of his back. “The soap’s…over there.”

She’d just climbed into the tub with him. Her legs brushed his as she settled down near him. “If Master would turn?” she said, putting one hand on his shoulder. Her breasts brushed his back.

“Nikos…” he said, hoping he wasn’t squeaking like a boy getting his first taste of female flesh and doubting he was ready for it. “Call me Nikos.”

Buy Links: Amazon / Phaze / B&N

Remember, comment before June 28 for a chance to win!

Backlash is the prequel novella to The Wildblood series by S. A. Hoag. Set on a near-future Earth mostly devoid of humans, this reveals some of the harsh realities facing people of The Vista, and how Team Three began.

Blurb

Before Team Three became Team Three, there was The Blackout.

Vista Security is used to the feral bands of humans wandering the landscape since a brief and devastating war wiped away civilization. Sixteen years later, they’ve adapted to dealing with the challenges facing their safe haven.

That is, until a new threat appears, one they never expected and one they have little defense against. Security throws in everything they can muster; it quickly takes a toll. Their advantage – an untested team of officers barely more than children themselves; officers with dark secrets and a hidden agenda.

In a free-for-all battle to preserve one of the last sanctuaries of man, Team Three discovers their secrets are their strength and that their future will take them far beyond what they’ve ever known.

Action, a bit of romance and a good splash of sci-fi set the scene for Backlash, the prequel novella of The Wildblood series.

Excerpt

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Shannon,” her radio crackled static, snapping her out of a restless sleep. It was Wade on his private channel.

“Go ahead,” she answered groggily. Her watch read 9:30 pm and she was supposed to go on duty at 2:00 am. An hour – she’d been asleep an hour.

“Gear up. I’ll be there in five minutes to get you.”

“What’s going on?” she wondered, rubbing her eyes.

“Don’t ask, just do.”

He didn’t sound like they might be playing wargames. Shan moved.

Her mother was in the kitchen. Deirdre Allen was five foot three, with pale blond
hair, hazel eyes, and was one of The Vista’s actual doctors. She’d been twenty-nine when civilization ended. “The hospital just called me in,” she announced. “Are you on-call?”

“I am now. Wade didn’t tell me why.”

War games?

“No,” Shan told her. “Not this time. I know you don’t like carrying, but I think this is serious. Take a sidearm, Mom, please.”

Deirdre nodded. “For your peace of mind I will.” She knew how to use it; she’d been forced to in the past and hoped she never would again. “Whatever it is, be careful.”

“I am, and Wade wouldn’t let me get away with anything else.”

She hugged her. “I mean it.”

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Shan said, hearing a car. “That’s Wade. If he tells me it’s practice, I’ll let you know.” She didn’t think it was likely, but he’d fooled her before.

The moment she dropped into the passenger seat, she knew it was real. “Can you tell me now?” She’d dressed in winter camos with body armor, both Sigs and a boot gun, clips in all her pockets, plus an array of knives. Her pack held spare ammo, food rations and various bits of survival equipment.

He glanced sideways at her, heading towards Station Two with a purpose. “We lost a Scout at Wisdom about an hour ago.”

“Lost?” she repeated, not expecting it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

S. A. Hoag is an author, lapidary artist, very amateur astronomer (“I just look at the stars, I can’t name ’em.”), and accidental desert-dweller. Born in the middle of Colorado, more specifically Salida, she has lived in a number of cities in a number of states before crash-landing in the New Mexico desert. Not Roswell, however. Science Fiction has always been her first interest in reading and writing; many other genres sneak into the novels and that’s alright with her.

Where to find her –

The Vista on Amazon
Website
Blog
Facebook
Twitter

I wish I lived in the UK–or at least that we aren’t about to get a new furnace installed, which had pretty much eaten away my travel budget. (We’re going on vacation this year only because it was booked before the furnace became moribund.) If you know me at all, you know smut and the sea are two of my favorite things. So this combination sounds made for me! The adorably raunchy has asked me to share this with you all. UK/EU residents and writers on my side of the pond who want to make their trip to England tax-deductible, check this out! And if you go, tell me all about it.

This year will be the third Smut by the Sea at Scarborough (UK) Library and it’s bigger and better than ever before with a schedule filled with sexy, seaside shenanigans. This year’s event is sponsored by Sexhibition, the brand new and innovative Sex expo to be held in Manchester this August. Smut UK will be there, you should be too!

On the 23^rd May 2015 Smut UK will take over the upstairs of Scarborough library from 9am -5pm with workshops, performances and more to delight you. All day you will be able to indulge in the delights of the erotic market place. Get your homemade gifts and treats from Bella Settarra, and Cara Sutra will be giving away goody bags and selling sexy treats including DVDs, bondage gear and lube. Pick up a book from the Smutty book stall, check out Steph’s Ann Summers table and of course you must have a go on the world famous Erotic Tombola, you never know what you might win.

There will be two reading slams filled with top quality authors, make sure you come and listen to Cara Sutra, Janine Ashbless, Kiki DeLovely, Charlie J Forrest , Bella Settarra, Anna Sky, Slave Nano, Cameryn Moore, Helen J Perry, Ashe Barker, Jacqueline Brocker, Ashley R Lister, Lisabet Sarai, and Victoria Blisse as they read 5 minute excerpts for your aural pleasure.

Three diverse workshops will take place though out the day, Jennifer Denys will be leading one on researching and writing Werewolf stories, Slave Nano will be Kinking up the Past in his historical and sexy workshop and Cameryn Moore, professional potty mouth will be talking dirty to filth up your fiction or steam up your sex life.

And as if that’s not enough there will be performances from the Enchanting Bea Noir and the sensual Blue Belle and those brave enough can pick up a Free Spanking from Mistress Cara Sutra!

Tickets are still available including a VIP package that includes a sexy goody bag filled with treats, your lunch and priority seating in all workshops, performances and slams.

Danger. Exhibitionistic thrills. And did I mention a hero with wings? My latest book, Thrill-Kinky, is sexy science fiction romance. In this scene, our alien hero and huamn heroine get into a clinch to divert the attention of the villains who are gunning for them. After all, there’s a raunchy erotic festival going on around them; they’ll be less conspicuous pretending to be lovers than they will be running. But their fake passion soon turns real.

“I wish I could fly with you,” Drax whispered as he turned her around so she could brace against the wall. “This will have to do for the moment.”

As the plumlike head of his thick cock nudged against her pussy, parting her lips, pushing inside her, all Rita could think was that they’d be flying just fine, there in the trash-littered alley, her hands pressed into coarse, graffiti-laced blocks. Flying on lust, on danger, on each other’s need.

He folded his wings around her, braced himself on the wall, used his wings to play with her nipples. The wingtips were as articulated as long fingers, but the sensation was very different. Silky and animalistic and kinky and so good. And as he played, he worked his cock in and out with a gentle motion of his hips, teasing her with the head rather than pushing in. An alluring torture, one she’d be glad to continue for a good long time. Years, even.

Except that in the distance, she could hear the distinct angry purr of a Fiero’s engine.

“They’re coming,” she whispered, surprised by the breathy urgency in her voice. “And I want to come first. Give it to me now.” Damn, they should be moving…

But given that San’bal was sex-party central at the moment, they’d look less suspicious fucking than they would running.

And if that theory didn’t work, at least they’d have some fun before everything went to slag and marl and then turned completely radioactive. If she had to die, there were worse ways to go than fucking a sexy, winged man.

Drax made a strangled noise deep in his throat and pushed inside her. As much as she craved it, the size and the suddenness almost hurt. Then her out-of-practice cunt relaxed, accepted him, embraced him, and the edge of almost-too-much transmuted itself into just enough. Stuffed, but sweetly stuffed.

For a second, if that, they held still, getting used to the feel of each other. Then he began to pound into her, and she worked back with each hard thrust, using thighs and hips and ass muscles, rolling her hips, contracting her inner muscles as best she could around his huge, sweet shaft.

What was up with the alley filling with stars? No, her eyes were closed. It was just sparks from screwing her lids so tightly as her whole body started to clench.

One agile wingtip flicked between her legs, stiff yet silky feathers brushing her engorged clit, and she flew into space with Drax’s strong wings supporting her.

He cried out something she couldn’t understand, thrust even deeper a few times, and filled her with his come. It seemed hotter than a human’s, just like his skin was, or maybe it only felt that way because he’d made her so nuclear. In any case, his explosion triggered more contractions, more waves of insane pleasure.

What brought her back to herself was the sound of the Fiero passing the alley by. She slumped against the wall, half in relief, half in pure boneless exhaustion, and Drax slumped with her.

“That,” he whispered, “may have been the craziest daredevil stunt I’ve ever pulled in a long career of crazy daredevil stunts. And I don’t regret it for a second.”

Blurb: As Rita and the crew of the space freighter Malcolm collect recyclable slag, things go from boring to interesting when she discovers a badly injured man—a gorgeous, winged, naked man—who’s been thrown into a recycling bin to die.

Drax, an undercover operative, has been branded a traitor by someone in his own government. By unlucky association, Rita and her crew are going down with him. From their first, hide-in-plain-sight quickie, danger and adrenaline fuel their erotic spark. But none of that will matter if they don’t live through the night.

Warning: Hero and heroine who straddle the line of criminal behavior—and definitely violate public indecency statutes. Exhibitionist, dangerous sex. Dark, sordid pasts. Wild risk-taking. Giggly cat-girl sidekick who’s not just another pretty…tail. And the greatest risk of all: true love.

Buy links: Samhain / Amazon / B&N / Kobo /All Romance eBooks / iBooks (iTunes)

This post is part of the Masturbation Monday blog hop. Click here to get the links to other sexy, explicit excerpts. Be aware you’ll also get some visuals that are definitely NSFW. Aren’t particularly safe for home either, because they’re so hot your monitor might catch fire.

Today, Thrill-Kinky, my first science-fiction romance, soars into space on very sexy wings. (Drax, my alien bad-boy hero, has glorious wings that come in handy for both love and larceny. His heroine Rita is an adrenaline junkie who decides that death-defying capers make great foreplay for lovemaking in flight.) While I’m celebrating and publicizing the release, I’m also reviewing final line edits for the second book in the Chronicles of the Malcolm series, Bad Kitty. That one’s coming out 9/22. And I really need to get started on book 3, which I’m tentatively calling Buck, Naked.

When I started writing Thrill-Kinky, though, I had no intention of writing a series. In fact, I didn’t plan to write a full-length book at all.

Many years ago, I spotted a call for submissions for an anthology of Valentine-related romance shorts. The call said they could be any romance subgenre, and my twisted brain thought it might be fun to do something futuristic with the theme. I started with the image of meeting a handsome alien–winged like a very adult take on Cupid–during an alien festival that resembled Valentine’s Day. Only as I started to write, I decided the alien was injured and needed the heroine’s help.  A complicated caper had gone wrong. Art thief? Spy? I wasn’t sure yet, but I knew he was dangerous and thrilling and just what my heroine, a spacer stuck doing a dull job, would crave. There was no way this plot would resolve itself in 6,000 to 8,000 words! I set the idea aside for later and got to work on a simpler story for the anthology. (In the interest of full transparency, I never got that story to work either, probably because my heart was with my alien bad boy.)

“Later” was years in coming. Like most writers, I have a huge file of ideas, stories that popped into my head at a time when I could give them only a couple of pages and some notes. When I turned in Witches’ Waves, the last book of the Duals and Donovans series, I needed a mental palate-cleanser. Witches’ Waves, with its blind heroine and themes of abuse, recovery and redemption, was heavy and painful to write in places. I knew then it was time to go back to that science-fiction romance idea. What could be a better contrast than a futuristic, funny, sexy cops-and-robbers story?

Of course, as I started to write it, I realized that Rita the thrill-seeking mechanic wasn’t the only member of the crew of the tramp space-freighter Malcolm who deserved a book. Cat-girl Xia, who started out as a comic sidekick, turned out to have a dark, intriguing past that she hid behind her kittenish antics. (I swear I didn’t even mean to write it that way. She seemed to take over, like cat-girls do.) She was going to need a hero, or maybe two, who could keep up with both sides of her. (That’s the book for which I’m reviewing edits.) Poor Buck, who’d never even gotten to finish school because his planet was invaded, deserved a heroine who’d love him scars, PTSD, educational gaps and all, though they’d probably acquire more trauma getting to their HEA. And the captain and his husband must have some kind of wild and romantic backstory. A would-be swashbuckler who likes to free slaves and an ex-priest with a dangerous temper wouldn’t be set up for a coffee-date by mutual friends and take it quietly from there.

Thus, a series was born. And my editor rejoiced, because she thought it sounded like a fun concept. She also laughed at me for being crazy.

Did I mention I proposed another series to her in the same email and I’ve been writing two series at once ever since? Stay tuned for more details on the second series, which will be kinky contemporaries with elements of romantic suspense. Apparently I just can’t keep things simple.

Rita and Drax would understand. Complications are so much more exciting!

Blurb:

Sexual freefall is like a game of chicken, except the first one to let go wins

Chronicles of the Malcolm, Book 1

Humans may have expanded to the stars, but they still have the annoying need to work for a living. Which is why Rita, crew member of the space freighter Malcolm, is stuck collecting recyclable slag rather than attending her favorite festival celebrating love and sexuality.

Things go from boring to interesting when she discovers a badly injured man who’s been thrown into a recycling bin to die. The catch, he’s gorgeous, winged, and naked.

Drax Jalricki, reformed (mostly) art thief and reluctant covert operative, is on an undercover mission to protect three planets when someone in his own government brands him a traitor. By virtue of association, Rita and her crew are going down with him.

From their first, hide-in-plain-sight quickie, the erotic spark between Rita and Drax is fueled by danger and adrenaline. But their growing suspicion that there’s more to their connection than lust may not matter if they don’t live through the night.

Warning: Hero and heroine who straddle the line of criminal behavior—and definitely violate public indecency statutes. Exhibitionist, dangerous sex. Dark, sordid pasts. Wild risk-taking. Giggly cat-girl sidekick who’s not just another pretty…tail. And the greatest risk of all: true love.

Buy Links: Samhain / Amazon / B&N / Kobo /All Romance eBooks / iBooks (iTunes)

Could you reveal any personal juicy stories about yourself?

Thank you, so much, for opening your cyber-home to me. It is a pleasure to be here with you, my dear friend. Well, I was raised in a military family so there are plenty of stories about men in uniform. Who doesn’t love that?! My father was a USAF Colonel whose work took us to all points from Alaska to France. We moved every two or three years, so I don’t have what most would refer to as a traditional childhood, more like Leave it to Beaver meets the Jetsons. Many of my ‘firsts’ were in France as my formative years developing were north of Paris. So, my first kiss, my first taste of escargot, my first hot dog on a French baguette was at the top of the Eiffel Tower, my first bikini (I was thirteen) was on the French Riviera and I fell in love with a thirty-something lifeguard named Aldo. I thought my father was going straight to an early grave. My mother thought it charming and funny since I wound up looking like a blistered, crying lobster with the worst sunburn ever. No need to worry about Aldo. A few years later, my mother and I were shopping in Paris; it was the day she bought me an alligator handbag, a small one, with a bright red leather interior. I still have it. We were on the Champs Elysees on a corner and everyone was wailing and crying. It was 22 November 1963 and I was 14 years old. It was the day John F Kennedy was assassinated and I witnessed as the world was crushed and Camelot fell. I think I grew up a lot that day. We had to hurry home, 90 miles north. The Base was on lock-down and red alert. It was a day the world stood still yet was fiercely frantic beneath the surface.

You are a mother. Could you tell us about your role as a mom?

I met my husband in California, on a day that I was none too happy with men. I was thirty-five and working in San Francisco as a Sales Manager for Honeywell and my father had a heart attack in Georgia. I wanted to explore the possibilities of transferring to Georgia to be closer to the first man I ever loved, my dad. “The Silver Fox,” as my boss at the time was fond of being called, made a pass at me and told me ‘why bother, as my dad wasn’t going to live forever?’ I was stunned and profoundly moved by a myriad of feelings. Funny that I should meet the two most important men in my life from that day forward on a day like that – my husband and his youngest son, then 13. It was the greatest gift. We got married three months later and the three of us honeymooned in Niagara Falls. My husband is from Buffalo, NY, and had been married twice before (his first wife died and the second, to VJr’s mother, ended in divorce when he was just 6). I had never been married, so they were my first. When I was very young, and in college, I fell in love and got pregnant. He was my first, not my first love but my first lover, and for all my worldly experience, I was still pretty naïve – even in the ‘70s. Clearly, there is a whole lot more to this story but suffice it to say that decisions you make in your youth affect one’s entire life. I had an abortion and dropped out of college. The gift of my husband and his son, who fast became my own son, I felt, was God’s way of forgiving me. So, my role as a mom is one I cherish, given it was my second chance and my redemption. Life has been good to me because of them. He has enriched my life beyond measure.

 You have a very long list of projects consuming your time, but I would like to offer you the chance to show off and promote your writing career. You may include any exotic stories of your life if you wish.

I released The Para-Portage of Emily on March 24, 2015 to a warm reception and wonderful reviews. It was released in ebook format and will be released in print in June. I have two more books that will be released by Summer 2015. If I am lucky, they will all be available at once and cause a wonderful stir among fans of literotica. Beyond that, I have a control list of about fifteen projects which will be concluded throughout 2015-16 and 25-30 projects that will require my attention for 2016-17. Only another Virgo will appreciate how organized I am about my work. Some refer to it as being obsessive compulsive—anal, even. I can role with that

When did you decide to write? And what genre and style did you prefer when you first started? What style and genre do you prefer to write currently?

 I have been in sales and marketing my entire business career. Writing was a necessity and I was good at presenting technical detail. English was always a love and focus of mine throughout my education, but I only wrote proposals, presentations, technical material and project material. In private I wrote poetry as a developing young woman. I really never thought about writing personally’ until I met up with an old school chum, an old boyfriend. It was never a calling to me as it is for some writers. He wrote and it spurred me on. I slipped into the world of Erotica, not by choice or design, but quite by accident…and I loved it. Turns out I was pretty good at it, too, or so people commented. But, my style has changed, developed a lot since then. What I wrote in the beginning was raw and erotic. Now, I like to think I am more of a literoticist in that I write erotic romance. The plot drives the story, the story drives the characters and the erotic romance is really an extension of the developing relationships. I don’t write groin-grinders, although they have a place in our genre.

 What genre, books, and authors do you like to read?

I love crime, thrillers, edge-of-your-seat whodunits. I also love period pieces, non-fiction, poetry and autobiographies. When I was very young and we lived in France, there was no television, at least not in English or in our house. The only television available to us was in the local pub. I will never forget seeing Steve McQueen say, “Sur la route”, in French on his Wanted! Dead or Alive series! I believe I giggled until I had cramps! Anyway, I read everything, absolutely everything almost insatiably. I wanted to be a criminologist or a medical examiner. Or a veterinarian. As well an actress and Ella Fitzgerald! It was not until I was in high school that I wanted to become a law enforcement officer—a Homicide Detective! But, I do love to read good literotica. I am not a fan of jump-and-pump but a love story with great, eloquently involved sex is a real page turner for me.

Do you have a person, real or fantasy, you would like to be?

Barbra Streisand. I always wanted to sing. My aunt sang torch songs and played piano in smoke filled supper clubs and piano bars. Isn‘t that romantic, a la Billie Holiday? I always wanted to do that. When I was ten or so, I was a little pudgette and my mother wanted to send be to dance classes; I wanted singing lessons. We settled on a set of bongo drums. Many years later, we were out schmoozing together at a piano bar and I took the mike with My Funny Valentine. Now, I just sounded like me, but she dropped her jaw. It took her four more martini’s to recover. She admitted I should have had singing lessons. We laughed our asses off, but of course, that was the four more martinis!

You have experienced many adventures in your life and have lots of energy, but what would you like to do if you had any free time?

 I would love to learn to play piano, learn Spanish and brush up on my French. But I am enjoying my life now. I work in Real Estate in SW Florida and try to find time to straighten my office. There’s that Virgo nag again.

Could you tell us about your new book, The Para-Portage of Emily, and the story behind it? You may include a brief synopsis and an excerpt. What or who inspired you to write your story?

My first book, Memories & Kisses, released last year in September 2014. It was about love lost and regained decades later. Do you have memories of a love that once was?…of a love that was lost?…of, perhaps, a rekindled love that survived decades of longing? I think we all have longings, not regrets so much as just simple, what if’s? and that caused me to think in terms of a stronger longing not over decades but centuries. I started Emily in 2010, but I really did not know where she was going to take me until I really got into Memories. Within a month, Emily was done.

It is a haunting love story about a Great Lakes seafaring captain that marries finally in his thirties to the daughter of one of his suppliers on the St. Lawrence Seaway whom he has watched blossom and grow into a beautiful woman since she was very young. He marries her and starts a life he has planned with her on a small Island in Lake Michigan at his estate, Mariner’s Maiden. The story is as much about them as it is about the young woman who comes to settle her uncle’s estate, Mariner’s Maiden, after his death. I love this story.

Blurb:

Emily Macque, a young, beautiful junior partner in her father’s law firm, is but a heartbeat away from love or destiny. Duty brings Emily to a frozen island estate two hundred and fifty miles north of Chicago. Devotion requires she delve into the property history to settle an estate probate. Death lures her into the arms of the shadows seduction created by the flickering light and dark shadows.

What flames the timeless passions spanning the decades? Love, desire or obsession?

Colin Jorgenson, once a Great Lakes mariner, is a strong man haunted by love and loss. How long will he return each night, gripped by desire, hoping to find the woman he has loved for a century?

Beneath the pristine Island beauty, passions hungered, lingered in the ardent darkness. His passions, fueled by decades of loneliness and longing, could no longer be denied. Will they face eternity together or love in secret as dark things are to be loved between the shadows and the soul?

 Where can we purchase The Para-Portage of Emily?

You are so kind to ask. Thank you, I would be honored. If readers are interested, they can buy my work at the following retailers or on my website:

Amazon US    All Romance eBooks     Yellow Silk Dreams     Barnes & Noble     Ganxy    XinXii    Kobo     iTune

Do you have future writing projects you plan to publish?

Yes, so many! I am releasing Moonbeams of Unintended Consequences in May 2015 and Cheerleaders in Heat this summer. My brain explodes with ideas and always when I don’t have a pen or paper handy!

Please share your recent publications.

Released March 2015

The Para-Portage of Emily Buy Link at Amazon

Released September 2014:

Memories & Kisses has three stories of old loves remembered; a grieving woman rescued from the sea, two childhood friends growing old friendship into passionate loving, and two long separated teenagers finding that time has mellowed them both and maturity has brought a passionate intensity they had never imagined. All three stories are of rekindled love that survived decades of longing and is now ready to burst into flame.

What do you think? Is she thinking about memories of love lost? Perhaps the memories made trying to forget a lost love? Even old memories revisited by old friends, united in a kiss that rekindles flames, passions and desire, too. Old memories are like old red wine – all the richer for time passed. And the kisses taste sweeter too. Three romantic and very sexy stories take us back to things as they once were, and forward to the wonderful times to come. Buy Link at Amazon

Released October 2014:

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

Released Christmas 2014

The Naughty List features six Yellow Silk Dreams authors, including Muffy Wilson plus guest writer Nina Pierce, got together to compile a sparkling ezine in celebration of Christmas. Or any other day of the year you feel you need to dip into a good read.
Offered here to our followers – sign up for the Yellow Silk Dreams newsletter and start reading immediately. Free Download

Previously Published:

Oysters & Chocolate, Decadent Publishing, Secret Cravings, Ravenous Romance, Yellow Silk Dreams

 Author Profile:

Muffy, author of erotic, romantic stories about love, sex, hope and passion, was born in San Antonio, Texas, to traditional parents. With two older brothers, she was the youngest, the family “princess,” indulged and pampered. She adored her older brothers, following them everywhere and was surrounded by love, stimulation, and pets. Her father was a career Colonel and pilot in the U.S. Air Force which required the family to travel extensively. The family lived in most points between Alaska and France. Muffy spent her formative years in Europe and came of age in France.

Returning from France with her family, Muffy finished high school in Northern California and attended the University of California, Davis, and majored in Business Management. Muffy entered the work force, independent with a fierce work ethic reaching the pinnacle of her success when, at 36, she became the Mid-West Regional Director in the Real Estate and Construction Division for IBM and retired at 39. She and her husband moved to a small island in northern Wisconsin where they owned a historic tavern, restaurant and resort business which they since have sold. They now live a charmed life by the water in SW Florida. Muffy pretends to be a serious real estate business person but, in real life, indulges her private interest in writing sexy short stories and sensual literotica. ~ Live, Laugh, Love with Passion is her fondest belief.

How may your fans contact you? Tell us the many links where you can find Muffy Wilson?

Website | Blog | Twitter | Email | Facebook | FB Fan Page | Mailing List Sign-Up | Google+ | Triberr| WordPress | Amazon | Ganxy | XinXii | Kobo Books | iTunes Books | Barnes and Noble | All Romance eBooks | Smashwords  | Goodreads |  Yellow Silk Dreams Publishing |  Secret Cravings Publishing |

Thank you, for hosting this wonderful interview. It was very kind and generous of you. I appreciate the time your fans and readers have spent with me, sharing my life, my family and work, as well as my inspirations and life. It has been a pleasure and an honor.

Apricots blossoms against a glamorous background of suburbia.

It’s officially spring. Trees are having shameless, lusty sex in my air. I’m a huge supporter of lust, but tree-sex makes me sneeze and wheeze.  Still, it’s an exciting thing. When my asthma inhaler and I are getting better acquainted, I know spring truly is “in the air”. So, I’m short of breath occasionally; it’s so worth it.

Especially when the naughty trees include my fruit trees. I have only two, an apricot and an extra-dwarf peach. They’re only a few years old. This spring, in fact, marks the apricot’s first blossoming. I’m hoping that we’ll get fruit on both trees this summer, and more to the point, that we’ll be able to harvest said fruit. Last year we got one peach–normal for a baby tree–and something ATE it.

This past weekend I was at the New England Chapter RWA Conference–I still owe an update on that! I came back fired up, and since then I’ve been writing new words, dealing with edits, doing marketing for my next release (Thrill-Kinky) on May 12 and generally being immersed in the author side of life. Not a lot of gardening has been done, and a lot of what has happened has been things like moving seedlings outside and in to harden off, pulling weeds, filling in the asparagus trenches, and trying to plan the next thing. But I do have a bit of a garden update for you.

Plant something: More lettuce and arugula

Harvest something: Mesclun, chives, dandelion greens, arugula, purple mustard, pea shoots. The last three were due to thinning seedlings, but they were big enough to eat so they count.

Preserve something: Nothing lately.

Waste not: We made a point of using up some older frozen beef before it got freezer burned. Otherwise, it’s composting and remembering to eat leftovers as usual.

Want not: Nothing new and different

Eat the food: Eating freezer fare and canned foods regularly. Baking bread again.

Build community food systems: Nothing, though we plan on getting to the farmer’s market this weekend.

Skill up: Nothing new. Mea culpa. I’ve been dealing with the writerly side of life, which is good hasn’t left me much time for being the homesteader.

My first science fiction romance comes out on May 12. In anticipation, here’s a sexy excerpt, in which our heroine and the hot, winged hero get a little freaky while hiding out from mysterious pursuers.

Definitely something in the danger-as-aphrodisiac theory, because in a fetid alley, with the law and outlaws both after them and her no doubt out of both a job and a home when the guys found out she’d dumped the slag and abandoned the floater, Rita was getting more turned on than she ever remembered being. She’d been excitable to start with, from the kiss, and from simply being around Drax’s dangerous good looks, but now she could feel herself getting slick, hot, ready for the cock that she could now feel all too well against her bare skin.

And his wings—marling stars, she’d never felt anything like the soft, sensual caress of all those feathers against her back, her ass. So good. His hands gripped and kneaded, and his wings stroked and soothed, and all the while he was kissing her, exploring her mouth with his tongue, sending sparks down the connections from her lips to the mouth of her sex. Her common sense told her they needed to move, couldn’t take the time to play there when the overpriced thugs in the Fiero might show up at any second.

Her common sense lost the argument with her libido.

Did they pump pheromones in the air for Kenu Aram, or was Drax just that good?

Maybe she was more thrill-kinky than she’d ever guessed, or possibly just that horny. She didn’t want to calculate how long her most recent dry spell had lasted. Things were depressing enough with people shooting at them and the Malcolm’s best contract in ages turning out to be some kind of complicated larceny that would leave them as the obvious suspects for the theft or worse if they weren’t careful and broke if they were.

Maybe it wasn’t so illogical to be tempted to give in to pleasure in a world gone radioactive even by the high standards set by life on board the Malcolm.

She squirmed against him, wanting more, needing more. Begging for more with little, inarticulate noises breathed into his mouth because she didn’t want to stop kissing him long enough to speak.

With all Drax’s injuries, she was afraid to touch him other than with her lips, , afraid to cause him further pain, until he moved one of her hands to his nipple. Already a taut little peak, it stiffened further under her touch as she caressed with light strokes, then, when he seemed ready, with firmer ones, rolling it between her fingers.

Not all of him had been hurt. At least one area was fine, one she’d dearly love to touch. Her other hand traced down his chest, skimming lightly in deference to his injuries. Skin like hot silk—real biosilk, not synthsilk, because they did feel different even if they were supposed to be chemically identical—covering steel. No, over something more valuable and beautiful than steel, something like that gold alloy they made on Xylac, a precious metal harder than titanium.

Thrill-Kinky (Chronicles of the Malcolm, Book 1)

Teresa Noelle Roberts

Publication Date: May 12, 2015

Sexual freefall is like a game of chicken, except the first one to let go wins.

Humans may have expanded to the stars, but they still have the annoying need to work for a living. Which is why Rita, crew member of the space freighter Malcolm, is stuck collecting recyclable slag rather than attending her favorite festival celebrating love and sexuality.

Things go from boring to interesting when she discovers a badly injured man who’s been thrown into a recycling bin to die. The catch, he’s gorgeous, winged, and naked.

Drax Jalricki, reformed (mostly) art thief and reluctant covert operative, is on an undercover mission to protect three planets when someone in his own government brands him a traitor. By virtue of association, Rita and her crew are going down with him.

From their first, hide-in-plain-sight quickie, the erotic spark between Rita and Drax is fueled by danger and adrenaline. But their growing suspicion that there’s more to their connection than lust may not matter if they don’t live through the night.

Warning: Hero and heroine who straddle the line of criminal behavior—and definitely violate public indecency statutes. Exhibitionist, dangerous sex. Dark, sordid pasts. Wild risk-taking. Giggly cat-girl sidekick who’s not just another pretty…tail. And the greatest risk of all: true love.

Buy Links: Samhain / Amazon / B&N / Kobo /All Romance eBooks / iBooks (iTunes)

It’s time for another thrilling garden and food update from your favorite smut-writing suburban homesteader. (I feel safe in saying that. There are plenty of homesteader bloggers and plenty of writers of sexy stories, but relatively few who do both. Very likely, then, that I am your favorite.) This time, the update really is exciting, and not because I’ve acquired either a baby alpaca or a redheaded guy half my age. The Cat-Herder would veto the alpacas. He might let me get away with the redhead as long as the lad brought his own backhoe and was willing to take out the scrub trees and poison ivy along the edge of the property.

No, it’s exciting because I planted asparagus. I’ve wanted to do so for years, but I didn’t want to give up one of my precious raised beds forever. Then we put in three new 16×4 raised beds last year. We got them done too late to put in asparagus, but this spring was the right time. Over the winter, I ordered 10 plants from Pinetree Garden Seeds in Maine. They arrived April 18.

On April 19–coincidentally my birthday–they went into the ground, taking up one of the beds entirely. (Those little plants have huge root systems!)

“Went into the ground” makes it sound much easier than it was. Digging an 8-inch deep, 18-inch wide, 16-foot long trench in a raised bed should have been work, but not killer. However, the topsoil we’d put in the beds had settled over the winter…and just below it was the fill. Or maybe it was the actual primordial bones of New England.  I’m talking rocks as large as a curled-up tom cat and twice as heavy. The Cat-Herder and his brother were burning the brush pile, cutting down trees with chain saws and doing other manly things, so with one huge rock that required the C-H and a crowbar, I was on my own. I’m proud to say I was only slightly sore the next day, but I definitely earned my birthday dinner and wine tasting.

And I’m definitely glad that asparagus bed is a lifetime proposition. Now the only hard part is waiting several years for my first crop.

Well worth the work, though. Already I’ve seen the tips sprouting out, though they were quickly buried again, as is proper. Talk about a thrill!

And now, for the Independence Day stats:

Plant something: Asparagus!! Also parsley seedlings. I started more Cherokee Purple and Black Krim tomatoes and moved some of the Oregon Spring tomatoes into bigger pots. The latter may or may not have happened because I knocked over the seedling pack, but in any case the “babies” are enjoying their roomy new quarters.

Harvest something: Mesclun, chives, dandelion greens, parsley, flowers

Preserve something: Nothing lately.

Waste not: Composting and remembering to eat leftovers–nothing exciting.

Want not: Nothing new and different

Eat the food: Eating freezer and canned foods regularly. The empty canning jars are piling up in the basement and the full ones are nearly finished. Except for the tomatillo salsa. I made quite a bit of it and as it turned out, neither of us liked neither as well as fresh, raw tomatillo salsa. I’m not planting tomatillos this year!

Build community food systems: It’s not exactly food, but it’s community agriculture. I found a local source for composted alpaca poo. Alpaca dung is high in phosphate, which asparagus craves. It’s a win.

Skill up: Read up on planting asparagus and on growing hazelnuts in New England. Sadly, European hazelnuts are prone to blight in this region. There’s a native species, however, though the nuts are smaller and not as exquisite. Decisions, decisions. Do I go for the “blight-resistant” hybrid, knowing it’ll eventually succumb, or settle for the lesser tree?

Late yesterday afternoon, just when I thought I could sit down and write until our dinner guests arrived, I heard an odd noise through the open back door. It was the sound of my shallot and Kalette seedlings blowing off the steps where they were taking the air and landing upside down on the patio. So in addition to everything else I planted yesterday, I had to scramble to get the poor, crumpled seedlings into the ground. It was a few days early for the shallots, as they hadn’t had enough time to harden off properly, and very premature for the Kalettes. Those were supposed to be transplanted in mid-May to ensure a fall harvest! Since they’d grown to transplant size much faster than I’d anticipated, I may just start another batch and have two harvests of one of my favorite vegetables.

And while I was in a transplanting frenzy, I got the first batch of parsley into a half-barrel on the patio, where I can easily cover it if need be.

Needless to say, no writing was accomplished, no words were accomplished.

Soon I’ll go out and check how the “babies” are doing. Many of the seedlings, especially the leggy Kalettes, looked dubiously viable after their faceplant.

After a ghastly winter of Gronk-deep snow, spring has finally arrived in southeastern Massachusetts. I’m in my garden again, and it feels so good. Spring bulbs are blooming, rhubarb is starting to sprout, the grass is greening, and my two baby fruit trees survived the bitter winter. That means it’s time for semi-regular Independence Days Challenge updates to log my garden progress. Let’s see if this year I can keep up with them! I have a habit of starting strong and falling off in mid-summer, when the harvest’s coming so fast it’s all I can do to keep up with it, let alone log it.

The blogger from whom I learned about the challenge is Sharon Astyk. Go read Sharon’s blog archives if you’re interested in food systems, climate change, farming, or the joys and challenges of foster parenting. She’s one of my heroes. Due to a combination of parenting and moving, she hasn’t been blogging regularly, but the archives are worth exploring if you share my passions.

Here are the challenge categories, in Sharon’s words:

Plant something: A lot of us were trained to think of planting as done once a year, but if you start seeds, do season extension and succession plant, you’ll get much, much more out of your garden, so I try and plant something every day from February into September.

Harvest something: Everything counts – from the milk and eggs you get from your animals to the first dandelions from your yard to 50 bushels of tomatoes – it all counts.

Preserve something: Again, I find preserving is most productive if I try and do a little every day that there is anything, from the first dried raspberry leaves and jarred rhubarb to the last squashes at the end of the season.

Waste not: Reducing food waste, composting everything or feeding it to animals, reducing your use of disposables and creation of garbage, reusing things that would otherwise go to waste, making sure your preserved and stored foods are kept in good shape – all of these count.

Want Not: Adding to your food storage or stash of goods for emergencies, building up resources that will be useful in the long term.

Eat the Food: Making full and good use of what you have, making sure that you are getting everything you can from your food, trying new recipes and new cooking ideas, eating out of your storage!

Build community food systems: What have you done to help other people have better food access or to make your local food system more resilient?

Skill up:  What did you learn this week that will help you in the future – could be as simple as fixing the faucet or as hard as building a shed, as simple as a new way of keeping records or as complicated as making shoes.  Whatever you are learning, you get a merit badge for it – this is important stuff.

The traditional first Independence-Days picture: Farmer-Style Ryan Gosling.

And here are my current results:

Plant something: Today so far: Amish Blushing Bibb lettuce, radishes (second planting), scallions (second planting), Space spinach (second spinach planting) and calendula (old seeds scattered in the flower garden. I’m not expecting much.) Already  started inside: parsley, leaf celery, many tomatoes, sweet peppers, eggplant, basil, marjoram, Kalettes (a kale/Brussel sprout cross), and shallots. Also, a flat of mixed mesclun greens to tide us over a bit until the garden’s ready. Already in the ground and starting to emerge: peas, spinach, various lettuces, Osaka purple mustard, arugula, radishes, scallions, tatsoi & another Chinese cabbage. I’ll probably update this later with more planting!

Harvest something: So far, only mesclun and the occasional bit of parsley or basil when it needs thinning. Oh, and dandelion greens to add to tonight’s salad.

Preserve something: Nothing lately, other than stock.

Waste not: Composting and remembering to eat leftovers–nothing exciting.

Want not: Stocked up on grains, local NYS cheeses and some lovely apples while visiting Mom last weekend.

Eat the food: Eating freezer and canned foods regularly. We even brought stock and frozen rhubarb to my mom’s to add to her birthday dinner!

Build community food systems: We’ve been going to the farmer’s market over the winter, and (see above) bought local-to-Mom apples and cheese, for far less money than local-to-us versions cost.

Skill up: I’ve been reading a lot about gardening and local food systems. We’re pondering chickens and more fruit trees and doing some research on these topics, though I missed the chicken workshop that recently took place in my area.

My Golden Flogger- and Readers’ Choice Award-nominated BDSM romance, Out of Control, releases in paperback on Tuesday, April 7. In honor of that and of the Masturbation Monday blog hop, I thought I’d post a seriously racy excerpt. (Warning: clicking on that link will, not surprisingly, pull up a page with some images that are even less safe for work than my words are. Do check out the page when you can; there will be links to other fun, sexy posts by other authors and you really out to check them out, but not when it’s going to get you fired!)

Jen had waited so long to touch Drake Matthews. Waited forever, it seemed, even though she’d known him such a short time. Drake’s skin was hot, as if he burned inside, and that heat and his hard cock belied the distance in his gray eyes. It was their color, she decided. He couldn’t help looking cool and far-off with eyes of that shade, but the intensity in them, the grip of his big hands—one on her hip the other grasping the knot of rope at her back—was anything but remote. When she brushed her hands over his nipples, he gasped as if he held back a louder sound. She lingered there, watching his control waver, reveling in it until he hissed, “Enough!”

She explored down from there in wonderful retaliation. The ridges of his abs looked like sculpture, but they were flesh. Suede skin over improbably toned muscle, sure, but flesh nonetheless. They yielded under her fingers. They’d be warm and slightly salty if she licked, but when she tried to duck down, Drake tugged up on the rope harness, keeping her in place. Her hands could move, though, and they did, down to that glorious cock. One hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently, enjoying their heft and the way they changed as she touched them. The other circled his cock. She stroked up the length firmly, passed over the smooth head.

All the while she looked, not down at Drake’s cock, tempting as it was, but up at his face. At the way that mask of remoteness and control cracked. His eyes were closed now, and without their gray, acute gaze, he looked…different. Not softer but less distant. The chiseled planes of his face didn’t do soft and his muscles, if anything, seemed more defined as he struggled to maintain his composure. He was losing. His face was darker, flushed with arousal. His head was thrown back. The muscles in his neck stood out.

Then he shook himself. “Enough,” he barked. He almost sounded angry, but the way he touched her as he guided her to lie on the futon bed didn’t feel angry.

He kissed her and slipped the blindfold on while she was still savoring his lips.

Jen fought down a flash of panic at the darkness, lost without the anchor of vision. A sliver of light peeked under the bottom of the blindfold, though, despite the fleece. It didn’t let her see anything, but still it reassured her, let her go on breathing normally.

Once she could relax, she realized without the lush distraction of vision, her other senses fed her more information. The rope around her torso and breasts became simultaneously more confining and more embracing. More sensual, as if it hadn’t been sensual enough to start with. She was aware not only of Drake’s hands on her, but his breath playing on his skin, his clean, yet musky scent. He positioned her on the bed, pulled the ends of the rope wrap on her torso to either side. He wrapped the ropes around her wrists, making quick, simple loops.

Her breath quavered in her throat as he then did something that immobilized her wrists to either side. It wasn’t stringent. She could still move a little, but she found she didn’t really want to.

Drake moved down the bed, keeping one hand lightly on her body. She supposed it was so she’d know where he was and not feel abandoned, but she would have known anyway, aware now of the movement of air, the sound of his bare feet on the wooden floor, though he moved quietly for such a big man.

She couldn’t help jumping as Drake fastened something—a leather cuff, she thought—on her ankle. The cuff was lined with something soft, like the blindfold, but with a leather border that felt cool and decisive on her skin. Unfamiliar, but a good unfamiliar. He moved her leg farther out, spreading her even wider. A small snick that she placed as a carbineer attaching to one of the D-rings on the frame only when she realized she couldn’t move that leg, and by then Drake had moved on, repeating the process on the other side. She wasn’t spread wide enough to be uncomfortable but enough to feel pleasant tension in her thighs. The air kissed her pussy, accenting how very wet she was.

He drew back once he finished, now not touching her. Jen felt the weight of his presence at the foot of the bed, felt him looking at her spread-eagled, appreciating the view and his handwork, the crimson ropes on her fair skin. “Bondage suits you. His voice stroked her skin, warm and seductive, and then he fell silent. Was he touching himself? She thought she heard slight movement, but it could be anything.

And since it could be anything, she pictured him stroking along the length of his big cock, hard and needy already but making himself more so for her. For them both. This was going to be a quickie, after all. The ropes, the confinement, had her wet and ready enough she’d go off fast, but Drake struck her as the kind of guy who was so used to holding back to make sure his partner went crazy that he might need encouragement to let go.

What a lovely “problem” to have.

He’s got her tied up, but she’s got him out of control.

Glass artist Jen Kessler has hit the jackpot—a cheap apartment in a charming Victorian house, complete with a sexy, intense, buttoned-down landlord…who may or may not have a riding crop in his bedroom.

She’s not looking for a lover, but when her innocent, impulsive hug sparks kisses as hot a molten glass, it leads to bondage, spankings, and more naughtiness that, up to now, she had only tasted.

His new tenant may have wild, dyed hair and an unconventional job, but Cornell math professor Drake Matthews admires the work ethic that got her out of debt. Then he’s stunned at how quickly she destroys decades of his carefully cultivated self control.

Soon their sexual and emotional passions push them to the edge—and beyond. But it’s not all good, dirty fun. As Drake takes more and more control of Jen in the bedroom, her deeply ingrained independent streak pushes back. And it’ll take more than a shared penchant for ropes, paddling, and coffee to overcome pasts that could unravel their relationship before it begins.

Warning: Contains kinky sex, molten glass, geeky higher mathematics, family secrets, and irresponsible consumption of coffee.

Tactile paper: Samhain / Amazon / B&N

Convenient ebook: Samhain / Amazon  / Amazon UK / B&N / Kobo

I seem to be on a run with guest posts and cover reveals lately, but so many of my friends have fantastic new releases and I want to spread the word. If you read my blog regularly, you’ll know I love to travel. So how could I resist sharing the cover reveal for Dark Shadows of the Past, part of a series set in the beautiful Greek Isles? They make me want to book a ticket. No, two tickets. Any place that romantic, I’m going with my Cat-Herder!

Blurb:

A deadly conspiracy…
Stunning jewelry designer Christina Connors wakes up laying on a freezing hard surface surrounded by spine-chilling darkness. Realizing she is dumped in an alley next to a dead body, she searches her mind for answers of how she got there but it’s terrifyingly blank. As the fog lifts, memories of dreadful events come crashing down on her.

A secret identity…
Christina finds herself caught in a deadly game of conspiracy, murder, and vengeance. She must discover how to play the game while concealing her real identity as Sophia Rosetti, the daughter of Mafia lord Paolo Rosetti.

Love or betrayal…
Seductively handsome police detective Dan Mallory takes over Christina’s case and vows to protect the feisty enchantress. But when her real identity is revealed, the betrayal is mind blowing. Who is Christina really? Is she the innocent victim running for her life, or is she a deceitful charmer who stole his heart and led him into a conspiracy that could cost him not only his job but also his life.

About the Author:

Angel Sefer was born in Athens, Greece, and has studied and worked on both sides of the Atlantic. She holds a degree in Economics and divides her time between the corporate world and her true passion: reading and writing mystery romance novels, full of heart-racing action, suspense, twists and turns, and breathtaking romance.

Angel is an award-winning, bestselling author, a blogger, and a member of ASMSG, WLC, and several other writers groups.

 She lives in Athens, Greece, with the two loves of her life—her son and her husband.

The Greek islands—alluring destinations that cast a spell on the visitor from the very first moment—are among her favorite settings. She has written a whole series of standalone mystery romance novels—The Greek Isles Series—each taking place on a different island.

In this series, dark mysteries mingle with sizzling romances, while the reader enjoys the virtual experience of visiting some of the most enchanting Greek islands. The impeccable beauty of those islands—where nature exists lavishly in hundred shades of green and blue, and centuries of Greek tradition coexist harmoniously with cosmopolitan activity—will steal the reader’s heart away.

Award-winning, bestseller Spellbound in His Arms is the first novel published in The Greek Isles Series. In this suspenseful tale of murder, deceit, and political cover-up, sexy investigative reporter Jackie ignites the fury and stirs the passion of mysterious police detective Michael. The action unfolds on majestic Corfu in the dazzling aquamarine waters of the Ionian Sea.

Bestseller Deadly Secrets is the second novel published in The Greek Isles Series. Stunning Helena and seductive Captain Dimitris confront each other—and make sparks—in this suspenseful tale of murder, deceit, embezzlement, and treachery. The action unfolds on picturesque Mykonos—one of the most beautiful islands in the sparkling sapphire waters of the Aegean Sea—and is supported by a steamy story of forbidden love.

The Heiress of Santorini is the third novel published in The Greek Isles Series. The startling truth about her billionaire client drives breathtaking insurance manager Alexandra over the edge but cannot quell her desire for sinfully handsome and off-limits Mark. This tale of non-stop action, suspense, deceit, and murder unfolds in Atlanta, New York, and on the awe-inspiring island of Santorini—a precious gem in the Aegean Sea that is still an active volcano with spectacular rock formations, impressive lunar landscapes, and breathtaking red and black sand beaches.

Dark Shadows of The Past is the fourth novel in The Greek Isles Series. Dazzling Christina is caught in a deadly game of conspiracy, murder, treachery, and vengeance while desperately trying to conceal her real identity. Seductively handsome police detective Dan puts his job and life on the line to protect this feisty enchantress from the threat hovering over her. The non-stop action and steamy romance unfolds in Atlanta, the Blue Ridge Mountains of Northern Georgia, and the island of —the fascinating setting of “Captain Corelli’s Mandolin” in the amazing aquamarine waters of the Ionian Sea. Dark Shadows of The Past will be available Spring 2015.

Links for Angel Sefer:

Website: http://www.angelsefer.co

Blog: http://www.angelsefer.blogspot.com

Facebook: http://on.fb.me/Vq75eu

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AngelSefer

Google+ Page: http://bit.ly/1xau2CE

Google+: http://bit.ly/13Fa6aU

Amazon Author’s page: http://author.to/AngelSefer

Goodreads Profile: http://bit.ly/15ePyoE

E-mail: angelsefer@ymail.com

and I can’t wait to read it!

Christine Ashworth is my friend, so I may be a bit biased, but she’s a terrific romance writer. I really enjoyed Christmas Star, the first in the Star Tide series. That was a novella. This one’s a juicy full-length novel with a female rocker, a PI, danger and love.

To celebrate the new release, we’re giving away a copy of Guarded Star. Leave a comment below and one random winner will get lucky with Evie and Jake.

Link…

http://www.amazon.com/Guarded-Star-Tide-Book-ebook/dp/B00UW4B8HI/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1427158871&sr=8-1-fkmr0&keywords=Christmas+Star+by+Christine+Ashworth

MAKE A WISH

Everyone leaves twenty-five-year-old Evie Marcherand, but with her naturally husky voice and musical talent she’s done okay, and her star is rising. Her songs and her guitar? Those she can count on. She’s just booked her first three-city tour. Too bad someone else wants to stop her music. Permanently.

Jake Wells. 39. Private investigator. Tall and lanky, with brown hair that’s going silver at his temples. What does he want? To go on vacation. But with four younger sisters, “protective” doesn’t begin to describe him, so a promise to a dead man means he’ll play bodyguard instead. Threats of violence against an up-and-coming singer/songwriter have been escalating, and there’s just no way that’s going to happen. But after he gets a taste of Evie Marcherand’s music—and lips—there’s no saying what will.

An excerpt from the book

Need tightened Jake’s every muscle. They waited, silent, for the elevator. He desperately wanted to know what she was thinking but had nothing to say to her that wouldn’t sound like a come-on. Tomorrow was a big night for her. He didn’t want to do anything to screw that up, so he’d just better hang on to his control and take a damned cold shower.

Or two.

Whatever would get him through the night.

The elevator finally arrived and he ushered her in. He hit the button for their floor and leaned back against the mirrored wall, gripping the bar that ran around the inside edge of the elevator, and made the mistake of taking a deep breath.

She’d worn a different perfume tonight, something exotic that went along with the makeup she’d used to great effect. She looked less like a beach girl and much more like a wanton siren, luring men and ships to a rocky death.

Jake tightened his grip as Evie sidled closer to him.

“What’s wrong?” Her smoky-sweet voice sliced through his pretense.

“Nothing.” The heat from her body tempted. The daydream he’d had in the club didn’t help. Her closeness, that dress, the perfume all pulled at his resolve to keep his hands off her.

She leaned back against the bar, her hip resting next to his hand. If he turned his palm up, he’d be able to cup her ass. He gave a silent thanks as the elevator slid to a stop and the doors opened.

But Evie didn’t move, so he pinched her behind and she jumped ahead with a little squeal. She turned to shoot him a dirty look, but he just hustled her out of the elevator to where he could breathe a little easier.

That lasted until they stopped in front of her room. “Will you come in?” Evie had opened the door and now stood, holding it wide for him. “Please?”

“Evie.” Oh God. Why did turning her down feel so wrong? “Your first big show is tomorrow night. Nothing else between us has changed. You should get some sleep.”

He expected something dramatic from her. Tears, maybe. Scorn. A tantrum. Something.

Instead, she just looked at him steadily, the door open, leaving the decision up to him. No demands made, other than her need, so clear on her face.

It killed him. She looked so vulnerable. His heart in his throat, he moved in, kissed her on the cheek and took the doorknob in his hand. “I’m right on the other side of the connecting door if you need me for anything. Sleep well. I’ll join you for breakfast in the morning, okay?” With a step backward, he pulled the door shut between them. “Throw the privacy lock on, Evie. Please.” He waited until he heard the lock click home before moving into his own room, feeling as though he had just missed out on the biggest adventure of his life.

Starting Seeds on the First Day of Spring

Peat pots and earth cover

The kitchen table. Our seeds have arrived.

Here in the warm house, we plant summer’s promise

Of fruit and bloom. Already, peppers,

Two-leafed, struggling seedlings,

Adorn the window ledge.

Tonight is the vernal equinox,

And snow still swirls over the garden.

Winter still grips us, but this rite reminds us:

Bulbs pulse green and waiting in the frozen earth,

And fall’s dead rot to life in the compost heap.

Before this month is out, we will nestle

Peas in the cool, moist earth, gather

The first daffodils and tulips.

This is our Easter, of root and leaf.

We plant hope in the darkest time knowing

It will rise again in the light.

I wrote this poem when I still lived in the Finger Lakes, many years ago. There, it wasn’t unusual to have snow on the ground and more falling on the vernal equinox. It’s less common here, south of Boston. Often I’ve planted peas already, a celebration of Saint Patrick’s Day or a defiance of it, a little earth ritual on the feast day of the man who purportedly Christianized Ireland. This year, though I can see the garden fence again, and a bit of a couple of beds, we’re still weeks off from planting outdoors. But I have seeds started under lights, and last night I planted still more, thinking of this poem.

Lettuce from another spring. Fresh food is coming, I promise!

North of the equator, we’re counting down to the first day of spring. I live outside Boston, which broke an all-time record for snowfall this winter, so there isn’t much green to be seen. Even so, there are fresh shoots popping up where the snow has melted, and today I picked a daffodil near a south-facing brick wall. (Granted, I picked it because we’re expecting freezing rain soon, but that brave little yellow flower was still a promising sign!) It’s almost time to enjoy all the wonders of the vernal equinox: flowers, birdsong, sunshine, bunnies, green grass, and of course, sex with attractive strangers, and maybe a spanking or two–all in the name of religion.

What? Your springtime traditions aren’t that erotically charged? You’re bucking tradition, my friend.

A still from “Spring Equninox” by Tereza Bušková, which depicts traditional Moravian spring rituals. Find out more about her work at http://www.terezabuskova.co.uk/section615482_225584.html

Apparently spring festivals in ancient times were often wild and sexy parties. Maybe it was surviving the long winter. Maybe it was all that new life burgeoning all around, from lambs to bunnies to plants. And keep in mind that until fairly recently, late winter and early spring were lean times, when stored food was gone and the new season’s crops were just getting planted. Those dandelions we yank out of the lawn as part of our modern springtime ritual? Those were food, eagerly welcomed because they, along with lambs’-quarters and other so-called weeds, and the first new leaves on the overwintered kale, were likely the first fresh edibles in months. And they were extra delicious with the first eggs available since fall. (Did you know chickens don’t like to lay eggs when the days are short, so for much of history, eggs were a seasonal product? I didn’t either, until recently.)

When people live that close to the bone, they seize the opportunity to celebrate life, and to give thanks for the return of light, warmth, and food. In my imaginary Soranian Empire, the setting for Lady Sun Has Risen and the rest of the Seasons of Sorania Cycle, the inhabitants believe spring comes because their god and goddess are finally reunited after a long winter apart. And how better to honor that passionate reunion than to do what lovers who’ve been apart for awhile like to do? (Hint: it’s what all those bunnies and birds are also doing–which, in a more primitive world, no doubt led humans to happy thoughts of rabbit stew and pigeon pie down the road. Wild creatures might be charming, but they were also tasty.)

In the settled parts of Sorania, the spring festival has become an excuse to party and hook up with what would normally be inappropriate people–all in the guise of religion. But in the wilder places, where life is harder and humans feel closer to the gods, the old rites are taken more seriously. And the spring festival involves a bit of kink to help the goddess and the god reconcile after their separation.

As chance-met travelers Miryea and Adimir discover, sometimes the gods use these these wild rites to bring together people who are meant for each other.

“Oh, lovely. You are so sweet, little rabbit. So hot and sweet.” While she was still trembling from aftershock, Adimir helped her ease down to the grass.

“As Lady Sun offered herself so the Lord of Grain might grow once more, so does Miryea offer herself to me,” Adimir intoned, the words clearly ritualistic. “We honor Lady Sun and the Lord of Grain, and I honor Miryea, who yields and is greater for it, not lesser.”

He sat down then, leaning against a tree, and pulled her into his lap, rump in the air and face among the softly fragrant flowers of Lady’s Message.

She braced herself for a blow, but instead felt Adimir’s hand flowing along the line of her back, the curve of her cheeks, then slipping under her belly to cup her mound. “Lovely,” he said, “and still dripping. Rain to nourish the land.” He caressed, stroking at her, dipping into her overflowing sex with his fingers as he pressed against her clit with his palm, arousing her again until she felt like lava was flowing between her legs.

Then, and only, then, did he begin to spank her. To her surprise, the first few smacks weren’t even as hard as the ones he’d delivered when she was harvesting bonestrength. More firm, affectionate pats than swats, they made her already heated blood flow faster. No pain, just warmth, and the wonderful male smell of Adimir’s body blending with honey-sweet flowers, crushed young grass, and the musk of her own arousal. When she started arching her back, pushing back to invite the next swat, he began to stroke once again at her juicy sex.

The sunlight dazzled in front of her eyes, and her breath caught in her throat.

He was still caressing, when he delivered the next swat to her upraised bottom. It was a little harder, a little more stingy–but with Adimir’s hand circling her eager clit and stroking the slick, sensitized mouth of her sex, and her tender nipples brushing the soft new grass, the stinging transformed itself into yet another source of stimulation.

“More,” she gasped, amazing herself, and when he complied, “Oh, please, more!”

A flurry of lightly stinging blows set both her asscheeks and her pussy on her fire. All the colors of the spring glade seemed brighter, unnaturally vivid, and she could hear her blood rushing in her veins, and she was poised on the edge of coming, but Adimir was skillfully holding on that edge, making the delicious tension build more and more, but not letting her fall.

“Please,” she sobbed as the bright morning washed red with her desire. “Please.” She wasn’t sure if she meant “Please fuck me,” or “Please spank me some more,” or “Please let me come,” or simply, “Please don’t stop,” but it didn’t really matter. His hand, his cock, whatever he wanted to give her–it was all fine.

Amazon / Phaze / All Romance Ebooks /Barnes and Noble