Tuesday, February 16, 2016


For self-preservation purposes, I have decided to retire. My books are still available on Amazon.

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

Spotlight: Julian & Lia by Maria Monroe

Freshman Lia is sure moving into a coed dorm was a mistake. It's a few weeks into her first year of college, and she's miserable and homesick. That's about to change, though, as soon as she meets college senior Julian, the confident bad-boy she can't get out of her head. She's sure he's out of her league, but when he agrees to give her ""lessons"" outside of class, her college experience is about to get way more exciting.

What she's not prepared for, though, is to fall in love. Hard.

Excerpt from Chapter 2 of JULIAN & LIA

I push through the crowd dancing in the living room until I reach the front door. On the front porch, I take in a deep breath, and my nausea disappears almost instantly. I don't even mind being chilly; I'm just so glad to be outside and away from everything. All the people who were outside partying on the porch earlier are gone, probably to avoid the cold, except for one lone guy sitting on the bottom stair. 

My gaze fixes on him. “Julian,” I gasp, then wrap my arms around myself to stave off the cold that I'm starting to feel. 

He stands and turns, leaning against the hand rail, a wry and cocky look on his face.

“Hi,” I continue. “I'm, you know, at this party? I'm just getting some fresh air?” I hate that when I'm nervous so many of my sentences end up sounding like questions, the way Greer always talks. I think it makes me seem dumb, but I can't help the things that come out of my mouth when I feel panicked. Like I do right now.

Julian cocks his head and says nothing, but his eyes are this weird mixture of emotions, like he's laughing at me while being angry too.

“It's hot in there, and you know, I just needed a break.” I'm babbling. Again. 

“Good party?” he asks.

“Yep. It's great.”

“You really think so? Because I've been to my share of parties like that. They get old pretty fast.”

“Yeah, well, you had your chance to be a freshman. This is my chance. And obviously you couldn't handle it or you wouldn't have failed Film Studies.” I practically gasp as the words leave my mouth, realizing how antagonistic and rude they are, but Julian seems unfazed.

“I could handle myself,” he says. “You? You don't even look like yourself.”

He noticed how I look! I try to put my arms down at my sides so he can really see me, but I'm shivering now in the cold night air.

“I think I look pretty good,” I say. 

“I think you've been drinking.”

“So you don't think I look good?” I know I sound like a petulant child, but I can't help myself.

“Right now, I don’t really care how you look,” he says, and I only focus on the “right now” part. Does that mean that at other times he does care how I look? And what does that mean? 

“Here, put this on,” he continues, taking off his hoodie and handing it to me just as Joel comes out with Greer and her boyfriend.

“There you are, Lia,” says Joel, his gaze settling on Julian. Slowly, I insert my arms into Julian's sweatshirt and pull it around me, my fingers cold as I zipper it up. It's so warm, and I think about how the warmth lingering in the fabric is actually heat from his body. 

“Let's go back to the party,” says Joel, stepping down another stair closer to me.

“Lia was just leaving,” says Julian.

"She's here with me," says Joel, but his voice is slightly whiny, and I can tell he's intimidated by Julian. With the two of them standing near each other, it's obvious how much older Julian looks and seems than Joel and Danny.

"Yeah, well, she's leaving with me." Julian grabs my forearm somewhat possessively, and a jolt of excitement courses through me. 

"Whatever," says Joel, giving me a dirty look and heading back inside.

"Let me say bye to my roommate," I whisper to Julian, and he lets go of my arm.

"Greer," I say quietly to her as Joel and Danny head back inside. "I'm sorry. I'm just really tired and . . . "

"Oh. My. God," she whispers. "Who is that guy? He is so freaking hot." She stares at Julian for a few seconds, then her eyes settle on me with a new respect, like she's suddenly seen me in a completely new light. 

"He's just . . . from one of my classes," I reply. "He's just going to walk me back to the dorms."

"Maybe I better sleep at Danny's tonight," she says with a wink. It takes me a second to understand what she's getting at. Then she too disappears into the house before I can reiterate the fact that Julian and I are, in fact, only friends. If even that.

"What are you even doing here?" I ask Julian.

"Waiting for you."

Oh my god. "What are you talking about?" 

He shrugs. "I saw you walking by earlier with your roommate. I had a feeling you wouldn't stay long. Vanessa said I should take you home."

I sigh, deflated. Of course Vanessa was involved; Julian wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her. But despite feeling a little disappointed, it makes me happy too that she cares enough to be worried about me.

"Let's go," he says, and I meekly follow him down the stairs.

"Where are we going?" I ask. I’m walking as fast as I can to keep up with his long stride, and I can’t help entertaining the thought that maybe Julian will take me to his house. It would be the perfect place to warm up.

"I'm walking you back to your dorm," he says, the "duh" unspoken but definitely clear.

"Oh." Of course he's taking me back to my dorm. It was ridiculous to think he’d take me back to his place. I look good tonight, but I’m not tall or leggy or blond like the girl in his room the other day.

We walk in silence the few blocks back to the building where I live. I expect him to leave me at the front door, but instead he waits till I key in, then follows me up the stairs and down the hallway to my room. Outside my door I look at him, trying to gauge his expression, but I can't figure him out. The best I can tell is that he looks mad, like I've done something wrong. Whatever. Let him be weird and pouty.

"Oh," I say, remembering his sweatshirt. With regret, I unzip it and slide my arms out, handing it to him. "Here." When he takes it, I feel goosebumps on my arms and rub them, trying to warm myself up. "You can come in," I say as I open my door, and as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I wish I could take them back. Why would Julian want to come into my room?

"I shouldn’t," he says, but then I hear the door close, and when I turn to look he's in my room.

I left my desk lamp on, and it's the only light in here, casting a warm glow but leaving shadows in all the corners, and I stand next to my bed, nervous and excited. Why is Julian in my room? And: Holy crap! Julian's in my room!

"Look," he says in a harsh voice, "you need to be careful. Parties and drinking are fun, but there are a lot of assholes out there."

Yeah, like you, I think. "What, are you the president of the campus Safety Patrol or something? I can take care of myself," I reply in a bold outburst. Maybe it's the punch making me more outspoken than usual, but there's something else, something rising inside of me, a mix of anger and desire and confusion about what to do with it all.

"Really." It's not a question. "I'm willing to bet anything that this is the first time you've ever had anything to drink."


"So, that guy you were with? He would have taken advantage of you the first second he got an opportunity."

"I wouldn't have given him one," I reply indignantly.

"Just . . . don't be stupid."

"Whatever. Anyway, guys aren't interested in me like that. Ever. So check that off your list of worries for tonight." I'm coming off the alcohol, and I feel sad and tired, the excitement of my first real college experience contrasting with reality in a nasty way.

"Lia?" he says slowly, "you have no idea what you're talking about." His voice is so low, and his eyes, those green eyes, are staring right at me. If I didn't know better, I might think it's desire I see in them, but obviously that can't be right. Not Julian. Still, I feel something change in the room, an energy I've never felt before. He's only a few steps away from me, and something about his physical closeness makes me nervous, even though absolutely nothing is happening.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," I mutter.

"Didn't you see the way that guy was looking at you at the party? Everyone was. The way you look right now . . . "

"Oh please. Guys don't check me out. Trust me. I've never had a boyfriend. And you don't have to worry about me getting drunk and, like, sleeping around. As a matter of fact? I've never even . . . " I stop short. Great. I practically just told him I'm a virgin. Not like he couldn't figure it out on his own, but still.

"I don't need to hear this," he says, but he takes a step closer to where I stand next to my bed. "I just wanted to make sure you got back to your room safely."

"I'm not your little sister."

"I never said you were." He takes another step closer with his long legs so he's standing right in front of me, so near I can feel the heat from his body even though not a single part of him is touching me. I inhale his scent, like soap or deodorant or some other mysterious male smell I can’t identify. 

Neither of us moves for a few seconds; we just stare at each other, like we're in some sort of standoff. My heart's pounding. I lick my lips nervously, and I hear him breathe in sharply. Because I licked my lips? I open my mouth slightly, just the tiniest bit, to see what effect that has. This time he breathes out a low growl.

"I shouldn't be here right now." The words are gruff, but his fingers gently finding my wrist say otherwise, running up the inside of my arm, and I shiver from his touch, from the sudden spiral of desire spinning inside me. Then he leans down, his body still a few inches from me, and lowers his lips to mine softly. For a second, our lips touch, nothing more.

He pulls away slightly and licks his lips, starts to turn, as if to leave the room. But then he stops and stands completely still, indecision written in the hard set of his jaw as he hesitates. 

He's going to go, I think, disappointment crushing me.

Then, suddenly, he moves quickly back toward me.

"Fuck it," he growls and his hands are on my lower back, his mouth on mine again but harder now, forceful. Tentatively I step forward so our bodies are touching and feel, to my shock and new desire, how hard he is as he presses into my stomach. He takes my face in his hands as he kisses me, his lips hungry. My mouth opens to his searching tongue. He tastes like dark chocolate and mint.
I’m weightless, dizzy with desire and disbelief. This is happening. This is really happening!

Without warning, he lets go and steps backward. When he looks at me, his face is tight and angry again.

"Julian," I whisper. "That . . . "

He interrupts. "Is never going to happen again."

And he leaves, slamming the door behind him.

Why New Adult? Thoughts from Maria Monroe

People have asked me why I like to write erotic romance in the genre (or sub-genre, I suppose) of New Adult, and there are several reasons. First, I think people that age (18-24), real people as well as characters, are extremely driven by sexuality and sexual awakening. It's compelling. There's nothing quite like feeling of unavoidable addictive attraction between two young people. That's what I strive to capture when I write new adult (or any, really) romance books and stories.

I also like the wide range of experience that people in that age group can have, which can make for interesting match-ups when I'm creating characters and writing. In Julian & Lia, it was fun to have Lila be the virginal freshman and Julian and experienced bad-boy who was going to teach her all sorts of fun things! The concept might not be new, but the way I tell the story hopefully is unique as seen through my characters, each of whom has a unique outlook on sex.

Additionally, I'm interested in the idea of a sexual awakening for a character, either a virgin or someone who is being exposed to something new and exciting that she may have fantasized about previously but was never sure she would actually try. Granted, this can happen at any age, but is perhaps more likely for a younger person.

I'd say the biggest difficulty writing New Adult is understanding and keeping up to date on current culture!

Find Julian & Lia and Maria Monroe Online:
Amazon ♥ Website ♥ Twitter

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

Guest Post: Student-Teacher Romance

Student-teacher romance: the lure of forbidden fruit
Guest Post by Noël Cades

Relationships between students and teachers, whether at high school or with university professors, is a hugely popular genre. There are perhaps three main reasons why:

1. It’s forbidden. There’s the secrecy, the sneaking around, the illicit liaisons, the rule-breaking. That makes for an exiting, drama-filled plot and a thrilling read.

2. There’s an age/power gap. This is theme reflected throughout romance and erotica, from the "billionnaire" theme to BDSM. A more experienced, more powerful person is more attractive.

3. We can relate to it. Many of us have gone through teacher crushes ourselves in our own school days, so we understand the protagonist’s emotions. There’s also an element of nostalgia.

The "classroom crush" in literature

Student-teacher romance is a genre with a long tradition in literature. Consider "The Woman in White" by Wilkie Collins, where Laura falls in love with her art master, Walter. Or "Anne of Green Gables" by L M Montgomery, where the local schoolmaster Mr Philips and his pupil Prissy share a tendresse.

Today there is an ever growing number of novels featuring relationships between students and teachers, with a very wide range of endings. In a recent analysis of around thirty novels, around two thirds of them had happy endings, in which the teacher and the student ended up as a couple. Others involved heartbreak, separation, jail and even death.

Illicit affairs on the silver screen

We also see this theme covered in film, though changing social attitudes are reflected in how it is portrayed. In our grandmothers’ era it was normal for young women to marry and even start families as teenagers. Today it’s frowned upon even though it may still be legal.

For example, in the 1930 melodrama Girls’ Dormitory, Marie Claudel (Simone Simon) falls in love with her finishing school principal, Dr Stephen Dominick (Herbert Marshall) and they end up together despite their considerable age gap. Likewise Margie (Jeanne Crain) ends up marrying her high school French teacher, Professor Ralph Fontayne (Glenn Langan) in the lighthearted 1946 musical Margie.

But in the past few decades, student-teacher affairs have been a much more negative theme. They are shown to be destructive, exploitative, abusive and even fatal. Examples include Noce Blanche (1989), Indecent Seduction (1996), Blue Car (2002) and Palo Alto (2013).

Exploring forbidden romance

Writing about student-teacher romances is interesting. It’s about exploring the kinds of emotions that drive two people to take that level of risk. It’s about revisiting one’s own former fantasies and secret heartache, and wondering what if?

Is it possible for a student and a teacher to genuinely fall in love and manage to sustain a healthy, fulfilling relationship? And if so, is that a good thing?

It’s hard to come to any single conclusion, either as an author or writer. But it’s certainly an exciting literary ride trying to find out!

Find Noël Cades Online:
Amazon  Smashwords  Goodreads  Tumblr ♥ G+  Blog  Twitter 

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Guest Post: The Beast in Me by Billierosie

The Beast in Me
Guest Post by Billierosie
I'm thrilled to announce that my latest book, The Beast in Me, is now available at Amazon! As usual I delve into the world of Fetish; going ever deep into our psyche, and what it is that turns us on. As I write my tales, I am telling myself the story as it unfolds in my mind; my shock at this tale had me reeling.

I began with a scenario; a man and a woman; their first real life meeting. They met online; there was an allure for both, a recognition of a kindred spirit. Now they are deep into a tricky conversation. The setting is in the English countryside; it is late spring. The theme, the thread running through the story, is the sacred and profane…followed by a huge, sticky sweet spoonful of ‘what if?’

“I don’t understand…”
“No, I don’t understand either…”

His eyes wander from her hazel gaze, over the green fields dappled with spring sunlight to the blue green vale of woodland in the distance. A murder of crows caw at each other; squabbling noisily.

Over the hills and far away…he hears the monotonous, low moan of a chain saw. He should leave; he knows it, but what will he go back to?

Slowly, the darkness will stir him; the fantasy that has haunted his dreams, waking and sleeping since childhood, will creep up on him and he will weep that he hadn’t embraced the sweet vision of it when he’d had the chance.

These things he knows; fact…”


Here is a blog post about The Beast in Me, from Eric Keys.

“This is not a book for everyone. Before I start, let me tell you that these two stories are hot. The sex is twisted but hot. Now, let me get philosophical.

I loved this book – especially the first half – the story of Noah and Daisy. Noah and Daisy both have a rather unusual fetish and they need each other to help fulfill it. Along the way they learn a thing or two about the sacred and the profane, about nature and the unnatural, about the laws of god and man. I dont want to make this sound like it is a book about theology, but in some sense, it is. In this sense, billierosie is a sort of kindred soul to me. We see things very differently, but both of us see the sexual – and, especially, the erotic – as an angle from which to approach deeper topics.

Noah and Daisy meet in order to violate the laws of god and man. And they do it. And in the process they uncover new yearnings. It ends up being a sweet and conflicted story. And its wonderful.

The second story dips into ancient mythology. In a sense the theological themes are more overt but given the setting and our general attitudes toward Greek mythology, it is much easier to dismiss them and focus on the hot sex. The characters arent as well-developed as in the first one, but the pace is much closer to what one would normally expect from an erotic story.
So, if the first one isnt to your taste, push on through and read the second. I enjoyed both of them immensely but I think the first one is the one that will linger in my mind.”


Heres my book description at Amazon.

Our sexual proclivities are an enigma. We have them, we know that they are there; we hide them, we keep them secret – sometimes we act on them. We cannot talk about them – no one would understand. We feel heated shame. We block feeling, turn away from feeling; we do anything not to feel. We crush the horror of the terrible deed that the little voice inside our head bids us do. Freud tells us that repressing feeling will amount to neurosis – Jung says pretty much the same – the repressed will bubble to the surface in one way or another – it will find a way out.
It will find its voice and it will demand to be heard.
The two stories presented here delve into the idea of ‘what happens next?’ What do you do – where do you go, after crashing and smashing your way through the final taboo?
A Queen, her depravity told through the millennia. Homer tells her story –Pasiphae the unnatural; the King, her husband, made a cuckold. Men snigger about the royal couple – even now, centuries later. What she did, her shame exposed to all, when she gave birth to a monster.
If you know Homer’s story about the Minotaur, you will know that the Monster is proof that Queen Pasiphae was indeed guilty of a terrible perversion.
And my own tale “The Beast in Me;” the taboo ever present in Daisy and Noah. They are lovers, besotted with each other; besotted with a terrible secret. They break man’s law and God’s law too.
Sensitive readers should be cautious, especially if easily offended.

Some comments from readers.

What have you done to me??? I just finished the Daisy and Noah story. I am almost scared to keep reading.”

“First off... Fucking hot. What's wrong with me?”

“Secondly... Damn, that was a touching story. The weird relationship between the two, the sense they have of the profundity of the events, the way it scares them and changes them and makes them seem so fragile and real.”

“Fuck you, billierosie! And I mean that in the best possible way. You're fucking awesome!”

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

Guest Post: Why audiobooks can appeal to ALL your senses

Why audiobooks can appeal to ALL your senses
Guest Post by Paris Rivera

“Radio is a very visual medium”, a wag once said, and I think there’s a lot of truth in the statement. When you can’t see, it does stimulate the imagination. Audiobooks have that visual quality that radio has. And since I’ve been publishing lesbian erotica audiobooks quite intensively in the past year (all available in ebook form too), I’ve had a great chance to explore and discover the huge erotic potential of the audio format.

In erotica, pictures always come flooding in, and audio is certainly no bar to that. Colors, for example, are super-important, as in this brief passage about the journey home of one woman, 34, and her electrifying encounter with a beautiful and assertive 20-year-old Japanese woman (from my audiobook Strangers on a Train):

Sally let her eyes drift down to the girl’s dark blue skirt, somewhere between a mini and a midi, and she could not help but notice the long and shapely legs that were crossed rather elegantly within the skirt, with milky thighs and smooth white calves that tapered down to delicate ankles and dark blue heels. Her nails were painted dark blue also. Wow, this girl was really something!

Whether in a book or an audiobook, the absence of an image invites not only the visual imagination but all other senses too. You get a hint of this in the old movie ‘9 ½ weeks’, in which Kim Basinger wears a blindfold and is driven wild by Mickey Rourke and some ice-cubes!

Audiobooks invite you to play with sound a little more than you would in a text that’s designed only to be read. Some well-placed ‘ooohs’ and ‘aaahs’ can contribute hugely to the mounting excitement, and the narrators I’ve worked with have been sinfully good at this!

I also try to use sound more subtly. In the audiobook The Morning After, which is wonderfully and excitingly narrated by Charm, a young woman wakes to find her new girlfriend Sandra has left the bed they just shared. But the visit of Sandra’s bright-eyed Spanish maid, Maria, brings surprising consolation, and, after a teasing conversation, the diminutive Maria is soon lifting the narrator, clad only in black undies, and placing her on her belly on the same giant bed that the narrator had only just shared with Sandra:

If the stimulation of Maria’s hands and words was not bad - or good - enough, I suddenly felt something else – and I gasped. It was the touch of Maria’s nose and mouth behind me, the feel of them pushing gently but insistently between the mounds of my behind. With all the strength I could muster, I raised my butt slightly, to encourage and help Maria, fighting the shuddering weakness in my own muscles as the pleasure intensified.

Once more, I wasn’t sure if I could stand it, or hold my position. I wanted to call out and wake the entire neighborhood. ‘Enjoy the flight’, I told myself once more, gripping the sheets like I was trying to rip them.

“So sexy girl, Diana,” Maria said softly. Her voice was slightly muffled now, but I think I could still make out what she was saying.

“So sexy for your Maria. So sexy Sandra’s girlfriend.”

When the narrator speaks these lines in a voice that is distinctly muffled, it really is very sexy to hear!

Another sense that audiobooks have encouraged me to explore is the sense of smell. In my story Study Break 2, Savita and Becky are two students who take a train with the intention of studying en route but end up getting drawn into the mysterious and sensuous world of an intensely beautiful black woman who is sitting opposite. Mrs Smith has a smooth, gentle, velvet voice and the slow, confident manner of an aristocrat. As the seduction unfolds, scent plays an important role. Savita recalls one moment in particular:

I lay across the seats with my head next to Mrs Smith’s thigh and stretched out my long legs towards the far window.

“Be gentle with me,” I said softly, pushing my head against that thigh as if to emphasize the point.

I tried to calm myself, breathing as deeply as I could. I looked over at Becky. She was smiling at me. She looked intensely beautiful. Once again, I wondered if I was dreaming and I literally pinched my arm to check.


Not dreaming I guess…

I breathed in through my nose and drank in that gorgeous scent [At this point the listener hears the sound of breathing in.] It really was a kind of marsh-mallow aroma, with apple, vanilla and now I was getting a little sweet musk as well.

I wanted this gorgeous woman so badly. I wanted to drown in that scent and give her all the pleasure I could…

In this story, I try to emphasize the erotic potential of ‘not seeing’. Soon Mrs Smith is turning to face Savita’s feet and actually kneeling astride the young college student. Suddenly, Mrs Smith lets her dark brown skirt over the student’s face like a tent, before slowly, tantalizingly, lowering herself into a position of great intimacy. Savita cannot see much but all her other senses are on fire, not least her sense of taste as Mrs Smith’s high state of arousal communicates itself through the thin cotton of her undies. Nor can Savita see the events that are subsequently unfolding between Mrs Smith and her fair-haired friend Becky; but she can certainly hear the conversation and the references to various kinds of undressing. Soon Savita can also feel Becky’s presence, not least her knowledgeable hands. And when both her companions fall silent, Savita senses the long kiss between them…

Oh gosh! Where was I?!! My mind is drifting.

And not just my mind…


Ah yes, the challenges and potential of audiobooks!

I find that the character of the narrator can make quite a different to how a story is written. Some narrators – like Charm - are just so talented at building the excitement and the ecstacy hat it encourages you to write with a kind of wild abandon. Other narrators have a coolness and restraint that is itself intensely erotic and encourages a long slow build-up in which passion may also be expressed by what is not said and even, as with Mrs Smith and Becky, by silence (Study Break; Study Break 2; Tell Her She’s Pretty; Your Bath is Ready, Madame). In Your Bath is Ready, Madame, the narrator went to the lengths of recording some water sounds to accompany the following lines and you can just feel the delicious tension between the two women in her restrained, soft voice:

The bubbles were so high and fluffy that Amanda could not actually see anything beneath the surface of the water, but she gamely moved to kneel beside the bath, comfortable on a thick-pile bathmat, and she began to sweep her left hand slowly through the water, feeling for the bottom of the bath.

Almost immediately, she felt the soap, but she ignored it. Why end the game when it had just begun?! Amanda’s hand continued its explorations, brushing against the side of Chantale’s dress and then feeling where the hemline gave way to the top of the French girl’s stockings.

“I’m sorry, I cannot find the soap, madame!” Amanda said, trying to sound as contrite as possible.

“Well keep looking!” Chantale said in a stern voice.

Overall, it’s been amazingly fun to collaborate on these audiobooks. Both the narrators and the audio medium have influenced the stories in subtle and interesting ways. The reviews suggest that listeners are having a good time too. I’d definitely recommend this format to other writers – and of course to other listeners and readers.

The old saying goes that “The eyes have it.” Well, that may be true. But let’s not forget those other sensual organs – the brain, the hands, the lips, the tongue, the nose… and of course the ears.

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

Spotlight - Meeting Each Other: The Full Story by Raven ShadowHawk

When Vicki broke up with Malcolm she felt sure her life was over. She knew she would never find another love like the one they shared and her alcohol fueled birthday party is but one of her coping mechanisms. That night, as she prepares for bed, unexpected company in the form of her best friend Lara, changes everything for her . . . and for the lives of many of her guests.

For the first time, enjoy the full story. Six different couples enjoy their first or most significant sexual encounters with their loved ones. This sizzling collection includes all six stories in the Meeting Each Other series 'Vicki & Lara', 'Carol, Niall & Lin', 'Bill', 'Eric & Morgan', 'Simone & Mr Bradford' and 'Malcolm.'

Simone faced the door, resisting the urge to knock a second time.

Her gaze flicked up to the fancy lettering on the shiny gold name plate.



Now there was a man worth worrying over. Mature. Rich. Sexy, even with, or because of, his foul moods and worse language.

She nibbled her bottom lip.

Everybody knew that Bradford hated his gold-digging wife. They understood that his relationship at home bled into his working life, forcing everyone to walk on eggshells until sure of his mood. The worst kept secret in the world was that Mrs Bradford refused to sign divorce papers. Clearly she saw more profit in maintaining her marriage to the businessman who alternated his Jaguar with his Ferrari three days a week.

‘Come in.’ His voice splintered Simone’s thoughts.

After a brief hesitation she opened the door.

Bradford stood by his desk with his back to her, the expensive fabric of his jacket drawn tight over his squash-player’s shoulders. A curl of dark hair tumbled over his collar. When he turned, his shirt buttons strained over a chest tight with muscle.

She looked at his face, but his gaze aimed lower, straight at a gap in her blouse.

Morgan, that arse! He couldn’t tell me I’d lost a button?

She cleared her throat and tried not to think about how much of her bra was on display. ‘Sir, I have the letters for countersigning.’

He looked up, at last, and instead of meeting her gaze, glanced at his computer screen. ‘Bring them here.’

Why did that brusque order sound like so much more?

As she walked, Simone’s heels sank into the lush carpet. Burgundy and tasteful, just like everything else, from the oak table – twice the size of hers – to the leather chair behind it.

She stood near his desk, waiting for an invitation to sit. It never came.

‘How many today?’ He didn’t look away from the screen.

It took Simone several seconds to figure out what he meant. ‘Twelve,’ she blurted. ‘There’ll be more this afternoon, but some of the calculations need double checking.’

Bradford blew a heavy breath through his nose. His gaze dropped back to her breasts then flicked up again, lightening quick. ‘How much in total?’

She squirmed. ‘£16,000.’


‘I said—’

‘I heard what you said, Miss Daye. I’m just surprised. I thought we were doing well this month.’

Simone licked her lips. Not for the first time she inwardly cursed Rae and her happy trigger finger when agreeing compensation. ‘Many customers had good cases, Sir. Their complaints are the result of major staff errors.’

A snort. ‘Make sure it’s in the monthly report. I want to know who’s lost their bonus this year.’

‘Yes, Sir.’

That said, Bradford snagged the stack of papers from her grip and skim-read them. He scrawled his signature at the bottom of each. His lips twitched as he read, the icy blue of his eyes dancing back and forth as he skimmed the text. Twice he snorted, once he outright growled and slashed his signature across the page with a ferocity that almost tore the paper.

At the last letter, he paused.

Simone held her breath. It was one of hers.

‘£3,000?’ He glanced up. ‘To one person?’

‘Yes. The customer lost four days of business due to a faulty machine. She also had a break-in—’

‘Not our problem.’ Bradford narrowed his eyes.

She squirmed. ‘No . . . but the FSA is involved. I’ve already talked her down from £20,000—’

‘Excuse me?’

Gazing into his eyes, Simone knew she had no need to repeat herself. This time she waited, watching his face for clues of his mood.

‘£20,000? And you talked her down?’

‘I was talking to her for an hour, but I did it.’

Amos Bradford smiled. The change to his face was alarming.

Wrinkles vanished from around his eyes and a small dimple puckered his left cheek. Frown lines smoothed out and the darkness filling his gaze melted away. He looked almost young.

‘Impressive. Very impressive.’

‘Thanks.’ She risked a smile.

Bradford signed the last page with an extravagant flourish. His pen flew from his fingers, hit the desk and bounced to the floor. ‘Grab that, will you?’

What am I, your maid?

Simone ducked and groped for it. The pen slid away and rolled beneath the desk. ‘Damn.’


She cringed, biting her lip over the answer she longed to give. ‘No, I’ll get it.’ She wedged herself beneath the table. Her fingers brushed something soft, lain over something hard and long. Confused she gripped tighter. It flexed.

Fuck, that’s his calf. He’s ripped like an Olympic runner!

Before she could pull her hand back, Simone heard a knock at the office door.

‘Come in,’ said Bradford at once. His leg flexed beneath her hand again, then slid forward to stroke her arm.

What the hell? She pulled away. He followed, nudging her fingers with his toe.


The office door opened.

Simone squeaked, conscious of her rear sticking up from beneath the desk.

‘Hi, Amos,’ a chirpy female voice filled the room. ‘Your wife is on line six.’

What the hell must I look like? Maybe the chair hides me. Jesus, was he really playing footsie with me?

Hardly daring to breathe, Simone waited.

About the Author:
Hi, I'm Raven.

I'm the second half of a single author who likes to separate her work not only with different names, but personalities.

I'm the fun one. :p

I write erotica (romantic, kinky, pure fun) and take great pleasure in telling stories to delight and titillate. Smut with brains, that's what I do.

Some stories draw from real life experiences, others are complete fabrications of the mind. There's no way in hell I'm going to tell you which is which because... where's the fun in that?

In live in the UK and work from home while caring for my two young sons. I'm fortunate enough to live with a man who knows and understands what it is to be a 'creative' and is supportive, loving and kind in every way.

Now that the Meeting Each Other series is complete I'll be working on a series of novels under the group title Slippers & Chains, the first of these, Sugar Dust, will be out shortly. I'll also be working in collaboration with Ileandra Young to produce some fun and smexxy urban fantasies with an erotic slant.

Find Meeting Each Other and Raven ShadowHawk Online:
Twitter ♥ Facebook ♥ Amazon ♥ Smashwords ♥ Blog ♥ Website ♥ Goodreads ♥ Mailing List

Wednesday, September 9, 2015

Spotlight: Red High Heels by Adam Mann

This is not a humorous book, but a joke started a whole train of events:
A research scientist books into a hotel before attending a conference on stem cell research, and whilst at the conference the hotel accidently allow a young lady with a very similar name to move into his room. They find themselves facing one another wearing only bath towels wrapped around them! When they decide to have dinner together the lady wears her red high heels, and this prompts a joke about red high heels, and wild horses. The young lady had just run away from a potentially disastrous wedding, but has to make peace with her parents. She is introduced to other scientists as the man’s fiancée, and she allays fears in her parents with the same ruse, which then turns into reality when she is presented with an antique Victorian engagement ring! Please have a box of tissues handy as you read!

They looked at one another.

“Your red high heels remind me of a joke,” Roger said, and smiled at her.

“Go on,” she encouraged.

“There were two tramps and everyday in the evening they used to show one another what they had managed to collect during the day from various trash cans, or rubbish heaps.

“What did you get today?” asked one tramp, a man.

The other, a woman, looked a bit dejected, and said, “nothing, but what did you get?”

“I found these high heels,” he said producing from his sack a pair of shiny red high heel shoes, “would you like them?”

“I’ve nothing to give you in exchange,” the woman tramp said mournfully.

The male tramp said nothing, but left the shoes where the female tramp could see them.

“What about sex?” suggested the woman, as she quite fancied the shoes.

“OK,” said the man, and the woman interrupted to say,

“I’d better warn you, I’ve never been very sexy!”

“OK,” said the man again, and they made arrangements for the ‘sex’ to commence.

The female tramp lay on her back and took off just enough clothes to allow the male tramp to lie on her body, and insert his penis into her vagina.

Suddenly the woman curled her legs around the man.

“Hey,” said the man, “I thought you weren’t very sexy!”

“I’m not, but I’m trying on the shoes!”

Roxanne, whilst Roger was telling this joke, had stood up and walked towards Roger’s bed picking up her red high heels on the way.

“Help me to try these on!” she said.

Roger tried to jump to his feet, but met Roxanne half way up, as she was leaning over Roger. She dropped the high heel shoes on the floor.

A Note From The Author:
I’ve lived and worked in Africa and Asia for many years, and I have always been fascinated by personal relationships, and in real life! I’m now enjoying my fourth marriage, after being widowed, divorced, had one marriage annulled as this ‘wife’ had forgotten to get divorced.

As a result I’ve extensive experience of social and sexual activities, which I bring into all my books sometimes in explicit detail, and usually with a Happy Ever After ending. Underlying all these stories is a quest for a loving and ongoing relationship with my partner. Three novels have been based in Africa. I now live in Vietnam, and have written eight romance books, all based in Asia, and my eleventh based in England but moving to Japan.

Three of my books have been published by regular indie publishers, and twelve others by Butterfly Books at Smashwords and at Amazon.

About the Author:
I was born in London within the sound of Bow Bells, just as the WW2 was about to explode. I was evacuated to the country as a small boy and then was brought up in rural England. My family moved to various places, including three years in Singapore from 1948, which had a curious effect on my later life. I have spent the vast majority of my working life in developing countries in sub-Saharan Africa and Asia, and now I live and work in Vietnam.

Find Red High Heels and Mike Lord Online:
Twitter ♥ Website ♥ Smashwords ♥ Amazon