Some Write It Hot

January 31, 2011

Releasing February 1–Masters of the Shadowlands Five: Make Me Sir by Cherise Sinclair

== Blurb for Make Me, Sir =====================================

Her job is to make his life miserable. His job is to make her submit. Whose heart will surrender first?

Across the country, rebellious BDSM submissives are being systematically kidnapped, one from each club. When her friend falls prey to the slavers, FBI victim specialist Gabrielle volunteers to be bait in a club not yet hit: the Shadowlands.

She finds that being a bratty sub comes naturally, especially when she gets to twit the appallingly conservative Master of the trainees. But she soon discovers he’s not as stuffy as she’d thought. Or as mean. She’d expected punishment, even humiliation, but she sure never expected to fall in love with a damned lawyer.

Courtesy of a prima donna ex-wife, Marcus loathes disobedient submissives. When the club owner insists he admit an incredibly bratty trainee, he’s furious. But as he comes to know Gabrielle and sees the alluring sweetness beneath the sass, he starts to fall for her.

Unfortunately, Marcus isn’t the only one who believes the feisty redhead is a prize worth capturing. And in the world of the slaver, such treasure is worth a hefty fee.

===Excerpt for Make Me, Sir =======================================

The model-gorgeous guy in the suit didn’t like her. Gabrielle saw that already, but no real problem. The only one she had to impress was Master Marcus, and hopefully the suit wouldn’t tell on her. The man positively oozed rich and powerful, so he must be a big shot in the club. “I guess I’d better get back there before my boss arrives.”

“Who?”

“Master Marcus. I’m waiting for him.”

“You most certainly possess a poor idea of how to wait.” He stared at her for another minute, disapproval radiating from him. “I have a notion that introductions are in order before you work your way further into trouble. I am Master Marcus.”

She choked. Oh, no. This day is so not going well. “Ah.” She cleared her throat and tried again. “Nice to meet you. Um –”

“And might I ask your name?” he asked politely. Too politely.

She took a second look at him, at his fancy tailored suit. Dark gray with pinstripes. Oh please, like she’d really believe he was a dom at all? “Gabrielle Anderson. Are you sure you’re Master Marcus?”

He cocked his head. The guy was way too good-looking. Tall, broad-shouldered, lean. His hair, a rich brown shading to gold on the ends, was flawlessly styled. Definitely a perfect person like her parents. Gag. Even his tan wasn’t leathery, but just dark enough to set off incredibly blue eyes. Very sharp blue eyes, in fact, and turning colder by the second.

“Why would you think I’m not Master Marcus?” he asked.

Well, good grief. She waved a hand at him and kept the duh from slipping out. Just in case he really was Master Marcus. Maybe he hadn’t changed yet or something. “The suit? Where are your leathers or latex or…biker jacket or vest? And black? Did you forget to wear black?”

He stared for a second, as if she’d turned into a drooling idiot, and then simply roared. Deep, full laughter — amazing coming from someone who looked like he should have a stick up his ass.

She felt heat flooding her face and decided she really didn’t like him. Maybe he was the club accountant or administrator or something. Shifting her weight, she looked past him. Hopefully the Marcus guy would arrive soon. She needed to get all established before the arrival of the kidnapper — the unsub, as a real agent would call him. She frowned. Unsub sounded too much like fake submissive. That would be me. Maybe she’d call him a perp instead.

“Best you tell me about your previous experience in BDSM,” the suit said, and damn but he appeared totally different when he smiled. How many women had he destroyed with that devastating dimple in his left cheek and crease in the right? “Was it mostly in downtown clubs? Perhaps of the Goth variety?”

“Well, yeees. Why?” Several years ago too, but that’s not what she’d written on her application.

He motioned for her to precede him down the hall, and when she stepped in front of him, his hand closed on her nape. Firmly, as if she were a stray dog. “I do believe you’ll find a private club a mite different. A wider age range, diverse incomes, assorted tastes. Many doms here wear leathers and black; some prefer other attire.”

Her stomach sank with the authoritative way he’d gripped her neck. No accountant from the back would act like this — she’d run into a dom. In a suit. Who called himself…? “You really are Master Marcus?”

“I’m afraid so, darlin’.” He stopped at the place where chains hung from the low rafter and released her, only to walk around her slowly as if she stood on a display stand. “Is all your experience in public clubs?”

“Uh-huh.” In her college days, she’d pop into a club, have some fun, and maybe take someone home. But she hadn’t indulged since then. She’d set her sights on the FBI from day one and wasn’t about to mess up her chances by doing anything less than respectable.

“I see.” He tapped the ribbing on her bustier. “Remove that, please.”

She stared at him. Just like that? I only met you, dammit. She hesitated, but the merciless look in those blue eyes kicked her into gear. After undoing the hooks, she tossed the bustier onto a chair outside the ropes that fenced off the scene area. She forced her arms to stay at her sides and tried to ignore the air-conditioned draft on her bare breasts.

“Very pretty.” When he brushed sure fingers over her shoulder, into the hollow below her collarbone, and over the upper curve of one breast, her body woke up from her breasts all the way to her pussy — and that was damn disconcerting considering she didn’t even like the guy. But he had that ruthless attitude going for him — the dominant edge that put butterflies into her stomach as if she’d swallowed fluffy bugs.

“And did you play somewhere else?” he asked. “Privately?”

Her cheeks warmed. “Not…really. I might have gone home with a man after, but for kinky stuff, I stayed in the clubs. More public or something.”

“I see. You didn’t trust any dom enough to let him restrain you without other people around.”

“Ah.” She’d never thought of it like that but — okay. He was right. She nodded.

“I prefer to have verbal answers,” he said ever so softly. “‘Yes, Sir’ will serve for now.”

She couldn’t keep the shiver from running down her spine. The guy wielded a razor-sharp voice, no matter how soft it was. “Yes, Sir.”

“That sounds very pretty, sugar,” he said, and the caress in his voice turned all her bones into a seriously mushy state. Until he added, “Remove the skirt, please.”

She looked up, and his eyes could be just as lethal as his tone. Why did he bother to say ‘please’? She stepped out of the skirt, wishing she’d done more time in the gym. Done any time in the gym. Maybe walked a little at least. Nothing like a fat ass to impress a man.

But hey, this wasn’t about impressing the fussy dom. She’d come here to lure a kidnapper — a killer — into a trap. She shivered.

His eyes narrowed. “Do you have a problem with being unclothed?”

Hell. Keep your mind on business, Gabi. “No, Sir. Just cold, Sir.”

“Um-hmm.” He walked around her again, inspecting her as if she were the star at a dog show. Totally insulting — and yet she felt her nipples contracting to dagger points and a disconcerting wetness between her thighs. She shifted to put her legs closer together.

“Master Z requested I take you on. Did you read the rules for the trainees?”

“Um. Yes.” She caught the hint of ice in his eyes and added a hasty, “Sir.”

He unhooked a set of golden-colored leather cuffs from the back of his belt. After buckling them on her wrists, he carefully checked the fit and then attached her left cuff to a chain dangling from the rafter. “The safe word for the trainees is red,” he said as he reached for another chain and did her right arm. He kept the chains long enough her arms could remain at waist level. “I want for you to use it if you become overwhelmed in any way, from fear, pain…whatever. It will bring the dungeon monitors a-running.”

“If I use a safe word, does that mean everything is off?” She couldn’t afford to blow this.

His face softened. “No, sugar. It means I stop whatever we’re doing and we sit down and chat for a bit.”

“Oh. Okay. Good. Um, Sir.” Can I really see this through? This lethal dom wasn’t anything like the ones she’d played with in the downtown clubs. Fear wavered inside her, and she shoved it away. Mostly.

She saw his gaze on her and realized her fingers were tracing the scar on her cheek. He pulled her hand down and enfolded it in his warm one. “Gabrielle, do you have a problem with bondage you didn’t mention on the application?” he asked.

“No, Sir.” When he didn’t move, she added, “Really. I’m just a little nervous, Sir.”

“All right then.” He walked to the wall, and the chains attached to her wrist cuffs began to tighten, pulling her arms over her head. He stopped before she had to go up on tiptoe.

She tried to be grateful for the small concession, but suddenly she felt…naked. Really naked, much more than when she’d taken off her clothes. Then she’d worried about how she looked. Now…now she felt the intensity of his gaze as he strolled around her again.

“What…what are you going to do?”

“I’m fixin’ to acquaint myself with my new trainee’s body as we have a chat.”

* * * * *

Buy from Loose Id

Read more from Cherise her website: www.CheriseSinclair.com
Dominant Males, Sizzling Tales
Author of Masters of the Shadowlands series

January 28, 2011

Tom’s Story Continued–Chapter Seven by Debbie Vaughan

Filed under: Free read — dangerouslysexy @ 04:00
Tags: , , , ,

Just in case you need to catch up:

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six

“You best be steppin’ lively,” he cackled. “Or as light as a dead man can.”

I cast a disparaging glance over my shoulder as I got my bedroll. “You’re not worried you might upset me, Paul? I can’t figure if you’re that brave or just stupid.”

“Bit of both, I reckon.” He cackled louder. “But then I ain’t the one that’s fixin’ to lay me down in the dirt for a nap, while a body I don’t know keeps guard over me and mine.”

He put a fine point on my own thoughts, but my choices were few and dwindling fast. Dawn was about to break. I unrolled my blanket into the trench he’d fashioned in the sandy loam then, stretched out on it. I raised a brow as he flapped another blanket to unfurl it.

“This here will keep the topdressin’ from getting you over dirty.” He spread the blanket, smelling strongly of mule, over me. “Rest easy, Massa Tom.”

“I am no one’s master,” I said aloud—I thought. The sound of hands moving soil and mulch grew faint and then– nothing.
*****
I awoke to the bitter sweet smell of chicory. What Paul used for coffee. I had survived the day with body intact and my companion still with me. I rose slowly, letting the soil and debris shift from the blanket before I removed it. Popping it into the air removed the remainder.

“Be whit’cha in a bit. Jist finishin’ up dinner.” Paul held his plate high, shoveling the beans in his mouth.

The sight of him left me lighthearted. He was a man of his word. I stretched my arms and cracked my back. “Take your time. Have the animals been watered?”

“Only a wee bit Sa, just a sip from the canteen. I daren’t leave ya to go to the crick.”

“That’s right good of you, Mr. Monroe–.”

“Paul, Sa—jist Paul be fine.”

“Paul, you finish your meal and I’ll water the stock.” I untied Silas and Merry and led them the twenty or so yards to where a brook babbled merrily over tree roots and stones. As they drank, I washed the parts I could, rinsed my mouth and wet my hair, running my fingers through in place of a comb. When finished, we returned to the campsite.

Paul sat studying his wrist. He looked up as we entered the fire’s glow. “Don’t that beat all?” He held his wrist up for inspection. “If’n I din’na know no better, I’d said I done dreamed this whole biznez.”

I took his wrist in my hand, no sign of my bite remained. Only a scar of an old rope burn marred his brown flesh. So, not just animal hide.

“You seem surprised Sa. Ain’t this how it always is?”

“Truth-be-told Paul, I don’t honestly know. I don’t normally stay around after feeding.” I raised my eyes and a brow to look into his face. “I knew our spit could stop the bleeding, but not that it healed so completely.”

-Read more >

January 26, 2011

Speak like an Aussie Day by Lillian Grant

Filed under: Who we are — dangerouslysexy @ 04:00
Tags: , ,

Today, January 26th, is Australia day, a day when Aussies celebrate the arrival in 1788 of the First Fleet of eleven convict ships from the UK. The day the British flag was raised and occupation of the eastern half of our continent began. England’s largest jail was born.

Now, whilst this may be a minor event on the planetary calendar, not coming close to the Superbowl or Macy’s Christmas Parade, I still think the world should pause, reflect and celebrate with the inhabitants of the world’s largest island.

If Disney’s reinterpretation of the Pirate genre can give birth to ‘Speak like a Pirate Day’ then surely something as monumental as Australia Day should garner a similar response. Therefore, I think this holiday should be renamed, ‘speak like an Aussie day.’

To help you all get in the swing of it I shall endeavour to give you the heads up on the most useful Aussie expressions and pronunciations. Now any of you who watched that movie with Meryl Streep where she declared, “a dingo ate my baby” are at a disadvantage…we really don’t sound like that.

First things first, an Australian will tell you they come from Austraya, note the word has a silent L.

When meeting an Austrayan the native will greet you with, G’day mate, the universal acknowledgment of your existence and acceptance as friend rather than foe.

If he offers you a ‘snag’ do not be offended or concerned, he is merely offering you a sausage, usually from the barbie.

The average Austrayan will pepper his language with words that may appear profane to the uninitiated. For example if he calls you a bastard it is a usually a term of endearment, unless you happened to let slip some unfortunate information about your parentage. ‘Oh bugger’, denotes that something has clearly gone wrong. If an Aussie were to drive into the back of your vehicle with his Ute (a car with a tray on the back instead of rear passenger seats and a trunk) his first response would usually be ‘oh bugger.’

Austrayans have many affectionate terms for those they love, mate, cobber, and dag. Dag being reserved for the times when his mate is being stupid. If you spill beer down yourself and make an Aussie laugh he may well call you a dag. Should you hasten to Wikipedia for a translation you may be insulted to discover the word dag denotes a fly blown, shit encrusted piece of wool hanging below a sheep’s butt, however, to an Australian it is an acknowledgment that you are amusing and just plain stupid.

Clothing here has its own names. At the beach, the male of the species can be seen wearing budgie smugglers, you may call them a banana hammock or perhaps swimming trunks. Dacks are pants and underdacks, are obviously underwear. Women have been known to wear frocks and men singlets rather than wife beaters. A skivvy is a roll neck jumper and thongs go on your feet.

As well as their being generic words recognized the country over, each state has its own nuances. For example should you meet an Austrayan who ends every sentence with ahy, thus turning every comment into a question, you can be assured you are in the company of a Queenslander. Should your tame Aussie keep telling you everything is grouse then you are the proud owner of a Victorian.

Having lived here for many years I have learned to understand and even mimic the Aussie so well that I have blended into my habitat. I grew up in the UK but became an Austrayan citizen as soon as time allowed, there is no where else in the world I would choose to call home, despite the drought, flooding and kookaburras who seem greatly amused by something in the trees outside my bedroom window at 5.30 in the morning. Although I do like Paris, maybe I could do Paris. Hmmm.

See if Lillian moved to Paris

January 24, 2011

Reward of Courage by DH Starr–Coming Soon

Filed under: Coming soon — dangerouslysexy @ 04:00
Tags: , , ,

The story is releasing soon from Ai Press

Blurb

Derek Thompson and Scott Thayer met in high school. Facing challenges and overcoming obstacles that would make lesser young men fold, they now have the chance to forge a life together. As they enter college, they finally have the time and space to discover each other sexually and give their virginity to each other. However, in spite of the erotic thrill of exploration, there are still challenges ahead, challenges that will test their love and devotion…

While Derek wants to live as an openly gay man, Scott wishes to maintain a degree of privacy. Not only that, but another freshman, Tyrell Jackson, becomes infatuated with Derek and wants Derek for his own. In the face of these threats to their burgeoning relationship, Derek and Scott are forced to look within themselves and make difficult decisions which will change both of their lives forever.

Is their relationship strong enough to bear the strain of balancing their needs as individuals and as a couple? The only way Derek and Scott will attain their ultimate reward is by finding the courage to face their fears. Will they rise to the challenge?

Warning the following excerpt is m/m x-rated!

Scott shot Derek a victorious glance, then the corner of his mouth began to creep up into his sly grin which would soon create a potentially embarrassing situation for Derek if his mother didn’t leave soon. Luckily, Claire turned and left just before Derek’s arousal became visible, pressing against the crotch of his jeans. When she left the room, Scott got up from the sofa and walked over to Derek. “I just thought of what we could do to kill some time before we go to Beck’s.”

“What? And could you please not do things that turn me on when my mom is around? My cock started dancing the Macarena when you flashed your grin at me.” Derek reached into his pants and dramatically readjusted himself.

“I forgot, all I have to do is say one or two words and you sport wood. It’s really very flattering—”

“Okay, enough,” Derek said, cutting him off. “What is this idea that you have?”

Scott walked over to the window and looked out. “I was thinking…oh, there are your parents getting into the car. Good! I was thinking we could take a shower together before heading over to Beck’s. We both stink and, well, the only showers we’ve taken together were in the locker room at school with a ton of other guys.”

All of Derek’s blood ran to his cock. Why hadn’t he thought of that? It was like Scott had a sixth sense. Just when Derek was beginning to feel doubt or concern about the two of them, Scott’s alpha male side would emerge and turn Derek into a puddle of longing at his feet. Without bothering to readjust himself, he dashed for the door, calling over his shoulder. “I’ll race you to the bathroom.”

Having the house to themselves, they didn’t have any concerns about being interrupted. They undressed hastily in Derek’s room, tossing their clothes to the floor, and tumbled across the hall into the bathroom. Stepping into the steamy interior of the enclosed shower, they embraced each other, allowing the hot water to slick their bodies. Scott ran his hands up and down Derek’s back, gently caressing his skin, as Derek ran his hands over broad chest muscles and defined abs, then leaned in and tilted his head up, bringing his mouth to Scott’s, as water washed through their hair and down their faces.

Needy hands gripped Derek’s ass, pulling him closer and grinding their now rigid cocks together. “Before we get too far into this, you know that we aren’t going to do anything more than petting right?”

Derek was too lost in the heat of the moment and water and by standing naked next to Scott to argue. “Yeah, yeah. I know the rules. Not until we get to college.”

Satisfied, Scott returned his attention to touching Derek. “I love the way your body angles down from your shoulders towards your waist and how your ribs ripple your sides, but disappear into you’re your lats. Your muscles aren’t too large, but they’re so clearly defined. I could spend days just looking at and touching you.” After delivering his praises, he lowered his head and captured Derek in a hungry kiss once again.

Derek had fantasized about showering with Scott hundreds of times, but even his most explicit dreams didn’t come close to the reality of standing under the rush of hot water as he held the only boy who had been able to draw him out of his shell. Pulling out of the kiss, he stared at Scott. Beside the dazzling blue-green eyes, Scott had shaggy blond hair which was now matted to his forehead and clinging to his neck. His skin was naturally bronzed and he had a strong jaw line which gave him a rugged, masculine appearance. A bit of scruffy stubble completed the image nicely.

Rising onto his toes, Derek placed his lips at the crook where jaw met neck and slowly kissed his way down the lean cords of muscle until he reached the collar bone. Glancing down, he gasped at the sight of his bulging pecs and flat abdomen and, defined ridged abs. All other images and thoughts vanished as soon as he saw Scott’s cock which stood fully erect between their two bodies.

The combination of running water, slick skin on skin, and seeing Scott’s naked body in the full light of the bathroom sent a new wave of excitement through Derek’s body. “Remind me why we haven’t showered together before?”

Scott bent his head so that his forehead was resting on Derek’s shoulder touched Derek’s, his hands still securely planted on each butt cheek. “She’s called Claire and if she ever caught us doing this, she’d lock up that chastity belt she’s got on you and throw away the key forever. Once we get to college we’ll have all the time in the world to do this and much more without worrying about your mom.”

Taking some body wash, Derek applied a generous amount to the loofah which hung from the shower nozzle and began to clean Scott, forming a rich, thick foam as he did so. “Oh, yeah, that’s right.” He snickered and continued his scrubbing. “Can we stop talking about my mom now? I’m sure we can find other things to focus on.”

Allowing water to wash away the soap he had applied to Scott’s body, Derek lowered his lips to one nipple, closing his mouth around the succulent bit of flesh, running his tongue in circles as the nub hardened.

Scott groaned and placed a hand on the back of Derek’s head, holding him there. Needing no further encouragement, he bit down, using his teeth to increase the stimulation. Over the past few months he had learned exactly how to drive Scott wild. Stimulating his nipples was one of the most effective ways. As he teased, moans filled the bathroom as his erection pressed against Derek’s stomach.

As if choreographed, they both reached down and wrapped their fingers around rigid shafts at the same time. Slowly tugging at each other, they began to increase their motion, still locked in a fervent kiss. Tension began to build up in Derek’s balls and his core muscles began to quiver in fast, ticklish spasms of pleasure. “Scott, I’m…going…to…come.” With a loud moan, he tilted his head back, water crashing onto his face, as his cock erupted under Scott’s skillful manipulation.

As soon as Derek’s release subsided, Scott’s breathing became heavy. Derek quickened his pace as he jerked at his cock.

Scott grabbed Derek behind his neck and pressed their foreheads together tightly. Has his cock pulsed, releasing ribbons of cum into Derek’s hand while staring he stared directly into his eyesat Derek. His moans were not as loud as Derek’s had been, but they contained an animal ruggedness, almost as if he were growling.

Derek felt the lingering spasms of Scott’s orgasm as his cock pulsed in his hand. Leaning heavily into Scott’s body, he rested his head on the rounded shoulder muscle and sighed. After a moment, Scott wrapped his arms around Derek. “That was incredible.”

“Mm,” was all Derek could manage. Bending down to pick up the loofah which he had dropped at some point, he had no idea when. He was rewarded with a sharp gasp from Scott.

“I forgot how fuckin’ amazing your ass is. I don’t get to see it nearly enough.” Scott’s voice had regained some volume, but still contained the ruggedness which sent ripples of electricity through Derek.

Standing and applying reapplied soap to the loofah, Derek laughed. “Turn around. Let me get your back.” Scott turned, exposing the smooth tanned skin of his back and. Derek allowed his eye to roam down the tapered lines of his body until they rested on his firm, rounded ass. While it didn’t have as much bubble as his own, Derek still found the sight alluring.

Read more from DH Starr at his website

January 21, 2011

The Importance of Proofreading by Lauren Fraser

Filed under: Writing life — dangerouslysexy @ 04:00
Tags: , , , ,

Now we’ve all heard how important it is to proofread your writing before you submit. I’ve heard numerous editors say the worst thing an author can do is not proofread their submission and query letter before they send it.

That being said we’ve all seen those headlines in the newspaper that just make you stop and go huh? The funny thing is even though you know it’s wrong you still feel the need to go back and read it again just to make sure LOL

Check these headlines out…

Man Kills Self Before Shooting Wife and Daughter
Wow, how’d he manage that?

———————————————————-
Tiger Woods plays with his own balls, Nike says.
Hmm, good to know.

———————————————————-
Panda Mating Fails; Veterinarian Takes Over
Now that goes above and beyond the call of duty.

———————————————————-
Statics show that teen pregnancy drops off significantly after 25 .
Go figure!

——————————————————
Caskets found as workers demolish Masoleum. “We didn’t know anyone was buried there.”
Huh, what did you think it was for?

———————————————————-
Missippi’s literacy program shows improvment
Apparently that doesn’t extend to the paper. LOL

———————————————————-
Federal Agents raid gun shop, find weapons
I’m shocked

———————————————————–
Never Withhold Herpes Infection from Loved One
Ummm, yeah you can keep that.

———————————————————–

Typhoon Rips Through Cemetery; Hundreds Deade
Yikes, how’d that happen. LOL.

———————————————————–

Red Tape Holds Up New Bridges
Where can I buy that tape?

———————————————————–

Well it’s official proofreading is important. LOL

Read more from Lauren on her website

January 19, 2011

Free Read Gato Negro Chapter 4

Cover Art copyright Stella Price 2010

Gato Negro, is available for Kindle at Amazon.com. and other readers, in .epub format, at Goodreads.

Without further adieu, Chapter 4

Oh, R-rated content warning!


Cuatro

In the dream, he came through the window, soundless as the cat, a silhouette against the black of night. His naked shadow stood over her, unmoving, except the eyes. The dark hid them from her, but she felt their path. Where his gaze fell, her skin sizzled.

Tonight, when she reached for him, her body obeyed. She pushed herself up. Her arms wrapped around the shadow, drawing him to lie beside her.

Slowly, carefully, he settled into her capricious bed, turning her gently to spoon against her back. His hard cock burrowed between the cheeks of her ass. His hands explored what his eyes had already taken in.

Her body responded with a gush of arousal. His mouth descended to her shoulder, biting, then licking away the sting. The hammock creaked beneath their combined weight, swaying to the movement of her hips as she rubbed against his hardness. Cradled in its soft fabric, their bodies tried to meld into one.

Rough hands cupped her breasts, thumbs petting the nipples until they tightened into hard little kernels. The empty, throbbing place between her legs ached to be filled.

Perfectly timed, he pulled her leg over his and penetrated her with the length and breadth of two fingers. Thumb on her clit, he plunged into her wetness, bringing the ache to a demanding need.

She wriggled against him, begging for more. Pitiful, whimpering sounds escaped her. She’d never begged to be fucked. Tonight she did, her only fear that she’d awaken too soon.

With a roll of his hip, he brought his cock to her opening, pressed, stretched, filled her. She cried out as the first spasms struck her before he had even seated himself within her.

His teeth brushed her shoulder. A low growl sent vibrations coursing through her, electrifying every nerve. He rocked, gliding through her slickness with easy, careful strokes, fueling the flames.

A solid lunge and she boiled over into a maelstrom of pleasure. His arm against her belly pulled her tight. He drove her to the peak and beyond, gnawing at her shoulder and neck, growling in her ear. When she fell limp in his arms, his hand slid to the apex of her sex, gathered moisture from their joining and caressed her clit.

The hammock rocked precariously as his thrusts grew more heated. Sharp, barking grunts pulsed against her neck.

Until that moment the dream was hers–all about her pleasure. But now her shadow lover lost control, thrusting hard and deep and long with her squeezed in his arms. His finger on her clit brought her back to a state to match his own. Between them, civilization vanished. In the pitch-blackness, only He and She, sweat-slick flesh and the liquid sounds of their most primal need.

He shuddered when he came, his thighs quivering against hers, his body quaking. The sound he made tore through and out of her in explosive spasms.

When the hammock finally came to rest, he turned her onto her back, slipped between her legs and started again.

* * * *

From the shadows, Carlos leaned against a mossy trunk watching the woman who’d yanked him from the comfortable oblivion of his most basic nature to this–this semblance of humanity. A masquerade so skillfully wrought he himself fell to its allure.

She sat on a rock behind a camera and tripod, downwind of several clumps of bright orange blossoms, observing through binoculars. Now and then, she penciled something into the notebook in her lap or snapped a shot of a feeding hummingbird. He’d found her like this at seven and again at ten. It was now noon.

At long last, Beth stretched, set the notebook aside and stood.

He coughed softly to alert her before speaking. “How do you sit so still for so long?”

Her face turned in his direction already wearing a brilliant smile. Her unabashed happiness at seeing him tugged at his heart.

Exiting the shadows, Carlos moved one step closer to taking the leap he’d avoided for a hundred years. He was about to let himself fall in love. It was inevitable. The only question remaining was would she go home happy for his attentions.

“Sitting for all this beauty isn’t hard,” she said, walking toward him. “For instance, I could sit and stare at you all day–would be no chore at all.” Reaching up on her toes, she planted a welcoming kiss on his cheek that burned through to his loins. “This is my project, heliconia and hummingbirds–at least in part.”

The expectation in her face prompted a question. “What are you looking for?”

“The unfortunate likelihood of losing two species because one is going extinct,” she said. “Let me get my camera.” She returned to her abandoned perch and began packing the equipment away. “Heliconia beckneri is dependent on the Sabrewing for pollination,” she continued. “But, the flower is on the endangered species list. I need to determine if the relationship is as strong in the other direction–if Beckneri’s demise will affect the hummingbird population–and extrapolate the extent of the damage.” All packed up, she stood in front of him expectantly. “It doesn’t look good, actually.”

He took the pack from her hands and slid an arm about her waist. They walked together toward the compound.

“So, the Sabrewing will be no more,” he said. “Sad to hear.” Another notch in his belt of failures.

“It is a beautiful bird–worth saving, if possible. It might adapt, but Beckneri nectar has a much higher nutrient value than the other heliconia I’ve tested. But you know all this, don’t you?”

He answered with a grin.

“I thought so. You could probably write my thesis for me right now.”

“No, the research so far proves only the relationship. Yours might save a beautiful creature from extinction,” he said, in no way wishing to subvert her enthusiasm for the project. If only he had a thousand more like her.

His answer pleased her. The way her face lit up when she smiled stopped his breath.

“But you didn’t come looking for me to talk about birds and flowers, did you?”

No, he came to court a broken heart and, in all likelihood, one for her as well. “There is a place I want to show you. Are you working this afternoon?”

“You mean, like a date?” She grinned. “How does after lunch sound?”

“A date after lunch sounds good. You’ll need your swimming clothes–no fords this time.”

* * * *

The Jeep bounced over a rutted track, hardly a road at all, in a direction Beth had not taken before. At first, Carlos’s efforts to maintain his half of a conversation were obvious and endearing. He loosened up after a while, but his answers to any personal questions, though forthright enough, provided little information.

“No family,” was all he said when she asked.

“How old are you, Carlos? Carter told me you’ve been around at least as long as he has, but you can’t be that old.”

“Older than I look.” The playful grin he threw in her direction softened the obvious avoidance.

They came to an abrupt halt a few feet from a fallen tree blocking the road. Carlos leaped out to investigate.

“You can’t imagine you’ll move that alone. Is there a way around?”

“Wait in the car,” he said.

She ignored the instructions. “Could we use the Jeep to push it out of the way?” she asked, coming up to him where he studied the end of the log.

“Poachers. See how the end is cut, not broken. This is fresh.” He took her by the arm and led her to the driver’s seat. “I have to take care of this. I want you to drive back to the compound.”

“No, I’m coming with you.”

“No, you are not.” He dug around in the back of the Jeep for his daypack and pulled out a gun and holster that he donned low on his hips. “Poaching in the reserve is a serious crime. These men will be dangerous.”

“How will you get back?”

He pointed. “The compound is less than eight kilometers in that direction.”

“Through the jungle? No way. I’ll wait here, and we’ll go back together.”

“Beth, do you see the roadblock? They may be watching us now. Get in the car and drive. I have lived here all my life. I know these people.”

Beth stopped arguing. This was his job. Rather than continue to give him a hard time, she climbed back into the Jeep and started the engine, but watched as he disappeared into the trees.

She hated leaving him. She threw the car into reverse and stretched to keep her eyes on the road behind. Backing up was not her strong point, but the rutted track was too narrow and overhung to turn around. She moved backward at a snail’s pace until she found a spot wide enough, maybe, for a five-point turn. Carefully, slowly, she eased the rear end to the right.

The vegetation muffled the loud bang when the tire blew.

She slammed her hands on the steering wheel and cursed.

What choice did she have? Beth snatched her pack from the back seat and set off after him.

 

Look for Chapter 5 of Gato Negro in a couple weeks.  Of course, if you just can’t wait for the next installment, you can always download the book, and the beautiful cover art by Stella Price.

For Kindle @ Amazon.com

For other readers (.epub) @ Goodreads

Sorry, they wouldn’t let me price it any lower than ninety-nine cents.

Thanks for reading.
ali
www.a-katz.com

and, oh, if you’ve already read, a couple stars at Amazon would be appreciated. Better yet, stars and a review 🙂

January 17, 2011

Knowing your characters by DH Starr

Filed under: Writing life — dangerouslysexy @ 04:00
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I participated in an interview for a review site recently which asked a question that I found to be particularly interesting…primarily because no other interviewer had asked it before. The question was about providing insight into the characters of my book Meant For Each Other.

One of the things I enjoy most about writing is creating characters and then watching how they take on a life of their own. I find that I begin with a vision of what is happening to them in my mind, and that is how my stories begin, but then, as the story progresses, they take on a life of their own and they end up living out their experiences without my guidance. I simply become the scribe that captures what they’re doing.

When asked to talk about these characters, I felt like I was talking about my friends.

Below is an excerpt of the interview. The full interview can be found at: The Romance Reviews

Q: What insight can you share about Craig and Jeremy so that we could understand them better and sympathize with them?

Craig and Jeremy are both artistic and humane. That’s what makes each of them tick. Craig’s work is to design images that represent the visions of his clients. It’s not about making money for him. He loves the work and his reward comes from the satisfaction of his clients. He’s about love and connection, and the further Robert drifts from the man he first met to the man we meet in this story, the unhappier Craig has become, forcing him to rely on his friends and work to provide happiness and a sense of worth.

Jeremy is a teacher in a private school, a job which pays very little financially, but which pays in spades emotionally. He has no interest in seeking a different kind of job that pays more. Being in the classroom, shaping and building the lives of children, gives him the exact kind of happiness and fulfillment he needs.

Robert and Andrew are about material needs, although that is the only way they are alike. The pressure they place on Craig and Jeremy is different and comes from different motivations. However, both Craig and Jeremy experience pressure to change in their relationships so when they find one another once again after 15 years, the sense of acceptance and ease overwhelms them and sets in motion the process that should have happened long before? breaking out of their restrictive relationships so they are free to accept true happiness.

Meant For Each Other is available in Kindle version at Amazon.com and also at All Romance eBooks.

January 14, 2011

Tom’s Story Continued Chapter Six by Debbie Vaughan

Filed under: Free read — dangerouslysexy @ 04:00
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Just in case you need to catch up click on

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five

“Hail the camp!” The smell of beans and bacon had mixed with salt spray and wet sand for the last five miles, someone’s late dinner or very early breakfast. A few hours yet before dawn, I reckoned I had time to stop for a bite and still reach the shore in time to hunker down for the day.

I watched the lone Negro man spring to his feet and reach for his rifle, scanning the wood line in my direction.

“Hold!” He called out, slinging his rifle to his shoulder with practiced ease as the mare stepped into the glow of the campfire. “What’cha be doin’ out and about this time of the morning–Sa?”

The “sir” came belated, as an afterthought. Free he might well be, but cautious. The rifle was Government Issue. I raised my hands, palms outward. “On my way to meet a ship and running a little late, hence my need to travel when I should be sleeping. Mind if I share your fire for a bit?”

“N’sa, I reckon that’d be gist fine. Step on down and into the light. That be a fine lookin’ mare you got yosef there. Mighty fine.” He stepped to the mare’s side, lowering his rifle to stroke her sleek neck. “Here Sa, I takes her fer ya. She can visit with Silas. He’ll be plumb beside hisself keepin’ such fine company.”

I stepped down from the saddle and handed him the reins. Watching as he led her to the picket line where his mule, also Government Issue, was tethered. The man was a medium hue, small, wiry and about as bowlegged as they come. “You seem to know horseflesh.”

“Few things I know better. I worked on a horse farm afor the war, was a wrangler for the Third in it.” He wiped his palm on his pants and then offered it as he leaned his rifle against the tree. “I is Paul. Paul Monroe.”

I took the hand he offered. “Tom Thornton.”

He snatched back his hand and reached for the rifle, his eyes wide but showing no panic. “What be ya, mista?”

Well, this was a twist I hadn’t expected. Granted, my hand was cool, but there was a chill to the autumn air I had thought would mask it. I started to say I meant him no harm, but for some reason couldn’t force the lie past my lips. Curiosity got the better of me. “What do you think I am Paul Monroe?”

He pondered that for a bit. “Ain’t no haint gonna be travelin’ on hossback.” He held my gaze, then squatted and ran a blind hand through his gear. He produced a torn and tattered book. Steadying the rifle against his shoulder with one hand he thrust the book out to me with the other. “Hold on to that, if’n ya please.”

I took the book from his outstretched hand and rolled it over to expose the worn cross on its cover. “Your Bible has seen better days, friend. You read it often?”

“No’sa. I can’t rightly read, but I knows some of them lines by memry. And now I knows you ain’t no devil, but you ain’t no livin’ man either. What’ch be?”

-Read more >

January 12, 2011

Real Life Gets in the Way by Gillian Archer

Filed under: Writing life — dangerouslysexy @ 04:00
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I haven’t been able to work on my writing as I should in a long time. Almost two months. My life has been a series of strange goings on lately. Our pipes have froze three times, each almost a week a time. We were snowbound for a week in December. And let me tell you, it’s not as romantic as it sounds, especially when we were boiling water like it was 1862. Plus our power went out Christmas Eve after we lost water for the third time.

So my writing suffered as a result. I had a hard time working on it when I was worrying whether or not our power was going to come on or if we had enough food stored up for our snowbound week or when/if our water was going to come on. What can I say? I’m a worrier and these past few months have been rough.

But it’s a new year—full of all the shiny hopefulness that entails. And this year will be different. This will be the year I’ll send out a completed, polished story for submission. This will be the year I’m published. This will be the year I dominate! 🙂 And hopefully this is the year we move back home to a place where building codes are enforced.

Read more from Gillian

January 10, 2011

Audio Books – Writers, Listen Up! by KevaD

Filed under: Writing life — dangerouslysexy @ 04:00
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Audio books were first formally recognized by the federal government in 1931 when Congress established the Books for the Adult Blind Program. The next year, the first talking book was produced. Today, the National Library Service circulates audio books to nearly a million physically impaired listeners.

The format of audio books has changed with technology. From hard discs, to vinyl, to cassettes, to CDs, to digital. In the late 60s most libraries offered audio books on vinyl or cassette. By the late 70s, the popularity expanded within the ranks of the non-impaired due to the decrease in size of cassette players and the convenience of transporting the players, including their installation in cars.

However, during the 80s, a number of major authors refused to allow their novels to be converted, which created a new concept – audio productions based on the books without the use of the actual manuscript. Music, actors and sound effects painted audio movies in the listener’s mind. By the mid-80s, audio books accounted for several billion dollars a year in retail sales. It didn’t take authors and publishers long to realize they were missing out.

The Internet, broadband technologies and advanced forms of playing the books have increased consumer interest, and thusly, sales, even though the price of an audio book exceeds its printed counterpart due to the added cost of a professional reader and production.

Add that the hired readers themselves have opened a whole new category to the concept of the audio book. With recognized names such as actor Will Smith applying their talent and name recognition to the mix, a new class of readers, those who enjoy listening to a particular reader, has emerged. Some buyers listen to books they may not have otherwise purchased had it not been for the fact their favorite reader was hired to record the book.

So now publishers need not only be aware of the growing demand for audio versions of their authors’ works, they also need to bear in mind who it is they hire to record the book.

What does this mean to authors?

When seeking out publishers, writers should be aware whether or not the prospective publisher avails their products to the audio media. It is a fact, audio sells. The author further needs to investigate the quality of the audio books the publisher produces. Are all of the readers unknown? Are the readers professionals, as in an acting troupe or members of an acting guild? Or are they a third cousin who needed a job and used a cassette player to record the book while the latest episode of Deal or No Deal plays in the background?

Writers further need to be aware of language within their contract as to audio rights. Undoubtedly, the royalty percentage will be different than for e-book and print versions of their work. Read that contract. Is the audio percentage based on true sale price? Or is it based on a percentage after production costs have been deducted? There’s a huge difference between 35% of a dollar, and 35% of 55cents after production costs have been deducted (figures are examples only and not deemed to be accurate).

Writers need to do their homework and spend a little time conducting research if they truly desire to break in to the growing audio market.

Find out what else KevaD is thinking

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