Melting Monday: Inspiration Knocks Twice for HK Carlton

I’m welcoming the stupendous HK Carlton back to my blog today! She’s got releases piling up all over the place at the moment, so be sure to check out her blog for more details. Over to you, HK! ~Amy

Inspiration Knocks Twice – Hard and Fast

gavegoodface_800 Authors gather inspiration and ideas for their plots in so many ways. And as I keep on this journey, I find a story can crop up from anywhere. Even just an innocent exchange of pleasantries at the grocery store or the bank can turn into so much more, at least in my naughty little mind it did.

It was a chance encounter with an extremely good-looking repairman, that was the inspiration behind this prequel/sequel, Gave Good Face and Hard and Fast.

His hands were full; I held the door for him, as we both went to exit the establishment at the same time. He thanked me. What a polite boy. He was young and tall; short dark hair, a nice bit of scruff on his chin, as if he hadn’t had time to shave that morning. Yum. But he had this twinkle in his blue eyes, that made me think that he was quite well aware of my slow perusal and wicked appreciation. It was an incredibly sticky humid summer day here in Ontario, Canada and once outside, we commiserated about the weather conditions. I think the word hot was used. Then he smiled and he went his way, and I went mine.

From my car, I watched him load the back of his service van. Enjoying the play of his work shirt as it pulled tight across his back. I admired the snug navy work pants as they hugged his nicely toned backside.

If I was not a married lady…

But since I am otherwise attached and because I tend to write naughty stories, that night, my lovely repairman, became Billy Maas, Tech-Co, the service man. 🙂

The true repairman may never know that he was the stimulus behind Hard and Fast, but he did earn a little dedication.

And as I never seem to do anything small, this tiny little fantasy turned into not one but two books. Hard and Fast, starring my boy Billy, is the second book in this set of two, although it was written first. Which also works since the leading ladies in these tales, are twins.

Here’s a little snip from Hard and Fast (it might sound familiar):hardandfast_800

Josslynn Rossdale stood in line at the bank. Another scorching day with the humidity so high that one perspired just standing still. Most of the other customers appeared to be melting, each with that fine layer of sheen and flushed complexion. In a lightweight cotton blouse, beige short shorts and sandals, Joss attempted to beat the heat.

“Next,” the first vacant teller drawled.

Joss stepped forward.

“Hey, Joss, how are you?” She’d been in the savings and loan so often lately that the employees knew her by name.

“Good, Tracey, and you?”

“It’s so much better in here now that they’ve got the air conditioning back up and running.”

Joss noted the serviceman in the standard blue work shirt, placing his tools back into his box. “Mmm, should suggest him for my building. AC’s on the fritz at my apartment too. I put in a call to the building manager but I’m still waiting.”

The repairman was tall, with short dark hair and nice broad shoulders. Snug, navy workpants showcased his well-toned glutes. As if he knew that he was being scrutinised he turned and zeroed right in on Joss. He had the most piercing blue eyes. Too cute, and too young. He couldn’t be more than twenty-five, she guessed. Somewhat used to a certain amount of healthy male attention herself, she smiled, totally aware that he was checking her out too. He grinned in return and the action brought out a charming dimple in his left cheek. He sported a fine layer of stubble as if he hadn’t had time to shave that morning. Joss liked it. It gave him a rugged appearance. Yes, he was a very attractive guy.

“What can I help you with, Joss?” Tracey snagged Joss’ attention back. “He’s really freakin’ hawt, right?” Tracey said under her breath, just as the young workman set down his toolbox on the countertop next to her workspace.

“Actually, I was hoping to catch Tom,” Joss answered. “I’m not sure if he’s in, but he said he’d leave some paperwork for me at the customer service wicket. But your man Tech-Co here is using it to store his tools at the moment.” Joss read the company name off the guy’s shirt.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just need a signature and then I can get out of the way.” He said this to Tracey but kept his gaze trained on Joss, grinning, the corner of his mouth curling adorably.

“I’ll get the manager. I’m not taking responsibility for anything,” Tracey scoffed, leaving her post.

“Hi,” Tall, Dark and Handsome said simply. He had a pleasant, deep baritone voice.

“Hi,” she responded.

“It’s another hot one, huh?”

“Sweltering,” Joss agreed.

He peered directly into her eyes. She liked it but it was also a little disarming.

“I hear it’s supposed to be this way all weekend,” he added.

“That’s what I hear.”

His lips were nicely shaped, the bottom one nice and full.

“I guess I shouldn’t complain. It keeps me busy.”

“I imagine.”

On even closer examination, under that dark and grainy stubble was a slight cleft. Joss was a sucker for a man with a dent in his chin.

“Here we go. The manager is on the way,” Tracey said to the repairman. “And, Joss, here’s the portfolio Tom put together for you to go over.”

“Thanks, Tracey. I’ll probably see you again in the next week then.”

“Yep, see ya then. Next!”

Joss glanced back at TD&H. “Have a good day then,” she said lamely.

“Yeah, you too.” He nodded as the manager joined him.

Joss began to walk out when one of the other financial managers stopped her to make sure she’d been waited on. She assured him that she had, thanked him kindly then continued to the exit, arriving as the rugged repairman did. It just so happened his hands were full—toolbox in one and a ladder in the other. Joss held the first door open for him.

“Well, thank you,” he said with a wide smile. He had excellent teeth too.

Joss rushed ahead and opened the second door.

“Thanks again.” He squinted up at the sky. “Whoa, it is hot out here. Being in there, in the cool, makes you forget for a while.”

“I know. It’s nasty, isn’t it?” Joss let the door swing closed and she turned in the direction of her car.

“Take care,” he said then continued on his way.

For shits, Joss peeked over her shoulder, and to her delight, he was doing the same thing. How sad had her life become that she was now thrilled by such a little thing?

Thanks for having me back Amy. You’re the best!

Gave Good Face is available at most vendors. Hard and Fast is available for early download exclusively at Totally Bound until June 6th.

Totally Bound     Amazon Canada     Amazon UK     Amazon US    

All Romance    Nook    Kobo

Buy Link : Hard and Fast @Totally Bound

Happy Reading!

Find H K

 Pick a Genre Already




EXtasy Books

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MuseItUp Publishing

The Always Cambridge Series

Melting Mondays – Naomi Bellina’s Dream Vacation

A huge welcome to Naomi Bellina this Melting Monday – thanks for coming over, Naomi!

My Dream Vacation

NaomiBellina Headshot All the hustle and bustle of the holidays can get overwhelming. We stay up too late, run too many errands, and burn out our batteries. A nice, long peaceful stay at a spa sounds pretty good right now! When writing Out of the Ordinary, my characters spend some time at a spa, so I thought about that environment a lot.  I let my imagination run wild one day and came up with my dream vacation.

I’m not sure exactly where this blissful place is, but I know I’m at a resort, somewhere in the mountains. All the meals are healthy, there are not a lot of crowds, and the people I talk to are pleasant and fun. The weather is perfect, sunny most days, a rain shower or two when I’m indoors to enjoy it, cool and crisp in the evening.

I arrive at my destination all alone. That’s right, the honey is not with me. Oh Naomi, you say, that’s kind of harsh, but come on. You know how nice it is to spend some time alone, with no one to think about but your little old self. You, you, you, it’s all about you. Don’t worry, my love gets to join me in paradise later, but for now, I’m on my own.

I’m tired from the long flight, so I have a soak in my garden tub. There is a selection of bath salts to choose from, in a variety of scents. All the products are organic which is important to me, because I have super sensitive skin. After my soak, I take a nap. I order room service since I still crave peace and quiet. Traveling frazzles my nerve, and I’ve been in a plane for awhile since I know my dream spot is a destination far from home. I read a bit, or watch a movie, then sleep.

The next day, I wake up and attend a yoga class, eat a healthy breakfast, then go for a hike in the hills. I love hills, mountains, and rocks, and don’t get to see these in Florida. I’m in heaven! Of course, I overdue it on the hike, so when I return, after a quick shower and a healthy lunch, I get a massage. The late afternoon, early evening activity is something fun and crafty. I love working with clay, paper, beads, metal, you name it. Any project will make me happy. Another night alone, with a lavender scented bath, and I’m starting to feel good.

After morning yoga and a healthy breakfast, I go for a horseback ride, then my honey arrives! See, I told you he would get to come play with me. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and now that I’m totally relaxed, I welcome him with open arms. We both get a massage, and I get a facial too. He’s tired and takes a nap, and after my services, I join him. The nap turns into fun and love, then I’m drowsy and ready to snooze. He sleeps a bit more, than wanders the grounds, because he likes to explore. We both have a swim in the pool, then dinner, reading and television in bed, along with more hot lovin’.

Yoga the next morning, we hike together, then hop in a helicopter and view an active volcano. The afternoons consist of  lunch, reading, nap, art projects for me, he gets to watch sports and join a martial arts class. Dinner, a walk in the chilly air under a sky full of stars, or a few drinks and a good band, or we watch a movie on the big screen for evening entertainment. The next few days we have a cooking class together, we visit a wildlife preserve, more art and marital art classes, he gets to ride several kinds of motorcycles, and we take a long ride together and eat lunch at a place with a spectacular view at the top of a mountain.

It’s finally time to leave, and we fly home together. Wow, what a great vacation! It has all my favorite things. Lots of relaxing time to enjoy books, movies, napping, sex, good healthy food, exercise, and great scenery. One day, I hope to make this vacation a reality, two to three times a year.

How about you? Do you have a dream destination in mind, or something you would love to do on vacation?  I’d love to hear from you. Enjoy this excerpt, and happy holidays to you!

Excerpt from Out of the Ordinary

Out of the Ordinary coverEsme began to rub Star’s neck, and Star sighed. Esme’s strong hands felt good on Star’s tight muscles. Slipping away to la-la land, Star remembered she had a mission and pulled her mind back to the present.

“So, tell me about this party. Is everybody I saw at the dinner table a guest? Where do they come from?”

“Yes, they’re all guests from our home planet, Kastra. King Gaius likes to have company at his parties so he invites—” Esme suddenly stopped. “I’m not supposed to talk to you. I’m sorry. Here, I forgot to turn on the music. You just listen and relax. I’m going to apply a clay facial mask. We’ll let it set while I work on your legs and feet. It will help smooth out those blotches in your complexion.”

Esme flipped a switch and a melodic, pleasing tune began to play.

Do I have a blotchy complexion? Esme needs to talk to those diplomatic relations people. Star knew she would get nothing more from the young pixie, so she let herself drift off and enjoy the experience.

Her mind wandered to picture Adam standing naked near the hot tub. She didn’t want to think about that particular scene, she needed to focus on a way to get out of there. But her brain had ideas of its own, and naked Adam would not disappear. It hardly seemed worth the effort to try to think of something else, and he really did look quite divine, so she let her imagination roam.

In her fantasy, she rose from the tub to greet him. She had the body of an Olympic athlete, and hair from a shampoo commercial. Her skin was certainly not blotchy and her teeth were white as pearls. There were no annoying pixies around for miles.

They hugged, a firm, loving embrace. Both of their bodies were warm. Adam’s hands travelled down her back and caressed her butt, squeezing her firm cheeks. She explored his body, touching every inch of delicious skin she could reach. His cock grew hard and pressed into her stomach and moisture formed between her legs. She stood on her toes and rubbed her pussy against his cock, eliciting a deep moan from him.

Their lips met and Star and Adam kissed, not one of those tender, sweet butterfly kisses that drove her crazy with wanting more. This was a hungry, passionate invasion, both of them tasting each other’s mouth, him biting her lower lip to just this side of pain. The kind of kiss that set her mouth on fire and almost left bruises, the kind Star loved.

His hand stroked her breast, cupping and squeezing the firm flesh, and just as he lowered his head to suck her aching nipple, Star felt something cold and wet on her cheek. Is that Adam’s tongue? She jumped.

“Sorry to startle you. The clay is a little cool at first, but it will warm up,” Esme said.

With a sigh, Star’s allowed her mind to drift back to reality. Damn, it had been a good long time since she’d had a daydream like that. Her pussy was wet and wanting, and raw desire throbbed through her body. Even though she was scared, something about this place had awakened her senses. She actually felt more alive and vibrant than she had in a long time. As annoying as Adam was, a deep desire for him coursed through her. His teasing manner in the hot tub had been for her benefit, she was sure, to help her relax and his words had been sincere—he really did think she had a nice body.

She would have smiled with pleasure had her face not been solidified by the clay mask. This sensation was a welcome change of pace from the emptiness that had greeted her each day for the past year, and Adam was certainly a delightful break from the men she knew. He was strong and seemed smart, without being a bore. His sense of humour, well, anyone who could keep his wits about him under these circumstances was extraordinary. She found she looked forward to their next encounter, clothed or not.

Out of the Ordinary buy links:

All Romance eBooks

Naomi Bellina: Adventurous erotic romance to tickle your fancy and unleash your libido…!/TheGoddessNaomi

Melting Mondays – Erika Masten is ‘At His Whim’

This week, Erika Masten is my Melting Mondays guest – welcome, Erika!


I wouldn’t be the first writer to admit that I have a wandering heart and pursue projects in a variety of genres under various names.  Each kind of story—be it fantasy or erotica, science fiction or romance—has its own rules, expectations, and personality. Kind of like lovers.  🙂

It didn’t take me long to notice that , regardless of genre, I couldn’t stay away from the sex scenes.  And why would I?  Sex and intimacy are heavy with meaning in human culture.  It’s so much more than “insert tab A into slot B.”  Sex can be an expression or even a subversion of control, empowerment, self-worth, trust, vulnerability, manipulation, love, lust, hatred, self-hatred, hope, despair…  The list is as lengthy as people are complex.

It was with this attitude that I came to erotica and specifically to romantic domination stories.  After a year of releasing short erotica as Erika Masten and receiving requests from readers for longer and more involved stories, I introduced the His Series, a billionaire domination erotic romance serial.  The eight-part series, with each installment being about twelve to fourteen thousand words long, has delighted my erotica audience while wooing new erotic romance readers with my particular brand of romantic Doms and gentle bondage and domination—presented with literary flare and a dirty mouth.

The His Series follows successful career woman Chloe Bloom as she flees the humiliation of the very public unfaithfulness of her high society boyfriend four thousand miles, to the Brazilian resort island of Ilha de Flor and into the arms of roguish real estate magnate Adrian Knight.

The first title in the series is At His Whim

Chloe Bloom is running away from a life’s worth of unfaithful men, the most recent being society scion Penn Ellison. The South American cruise is supposed to be her chance to forget her problems in exotic locales and the arms of gorgeous strangers, if only her heart and libido would cooperate.

Adrian Knight lets people think he’s the manager of the luxury resort on the private Brazilian island of Ilha de Flor when in truth he’s the owner, a perfectly poised example of the kind of rake you get with a few generations of ridiculous wealth.  Sex is a transaction for him, until Chloe Bloom walks out of the arms of Knight’s lifelong rival and into his resort.

With Chloe looking to explore this particularly male concept of lust without love, and Adrian unable to resist his competitive urge to claim what his rival lost, it’s a matter of time before she is on her knees and at his whim.

And an excerpt…

In the span of a moment, a hand slid warm and firm along my back, another on my upper arm, and a voice like good liquor burning its way through my insides sounded just behind the curve of my ear.  Lemon and champagne.  “You didn’t give me your name.”

When I jumped at the touch, at the sound, at the warm breath against my skin, Adrian’s hands tightened on me as though to steady me.  My body, my whole body, throbbed as he gripped me hard.  That was a first for me, such a visceral reaction to being grabbed by a man.  Though touching someone’s arm or back during greeting and conversation was common in Brazil, that was among friends or at least warm acquaintances.  Adrian Knight was taking liberties, and I was sure he knew that.  I heard him breathe out a low chuckle before I spun to face him, nearly dumping my plate down his linen shirt and perfectly fitted black pants.

“Easy there,” he said, almost pointedly not stepping back to give me space, looming over me.  At five-foot-six, I was used to men being three or four inches taller, but with Knight it was more like six or eight.  Even three-inch heels didn’t make up for it.  “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Liar, I wanted to shout, surprising myself with the force of the thought.  But something inside me coiled, flushed with anger and…and sudden lust, irrationally convinced now that Knight’s teasing was wholly intentional.

Calm down, Chloe, I told myself.  What was that about being all logic and to hell with intuition?  The man hadn’t done anything but embarrass me a bit and surprise me over the dessert table.  Well, that and plug my libido directly into a power outlet, from the feel of it.

Knight slowly withdrew his hands to clasp them at the small of his back, but he still leaned close, towering.  “You are?” he prodded again.

Straightening, feeling a hot blush flood my face and neck, I was determined to salvage the moment and a scrap of dignity.  A deep breath.  Not too deep, not too noticeable, I hoped.  “Chloe Bloom.”

His lips, dark rose and plump and surrounded by a roguish dusting of carefully cultivated five o’clock shadow, pursed around a suggestion of a grin before he repeated, “Chloe Bloom.”  Odd, that tone of satisfaction, like he’d already known the answer.  More likely it was satisfaction at my reaction, at seeing how obviously his presence was affecting me.  “Would you dine at my table with me, Miss Bloom?”

Absolutely not.  That was what I said inside my head.  I had only just today stopped being utterly numb from walking away from Penn, whom I had thought I loved.  I had only just now found myself physically attracted to another man.  The next stage in breakup recovery was lots of sugar and a little bit of weeping into a pillow.  Not sitting next to a torturously handsome man with a mischievous gleam in his eyes and a certain something about him that I could not place.

“Certainly,” I said.

The first four titles from the His Series—At His Whim, In His Service, At His Mercy, and Under His Sway—are available online now at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and All Romance.

Melting Mondays – Desiree Holt Invites YOU to a Naughty Sleepover

Desiree Holt is one of my anthology-mates for the Switch and Bound to the Billionaire anthologies, and also one of my new personal heroes… plus, she’s this week’s Melting Mondays guest! Thanks for coming to see me, Desiree! Wish I could make it to the Sleepover. ~ Amy

The Naughty Sleepover

What happens when seven crazy authors, good friends, get together for a girls only weekend with chocolate wine and whipped cream vodka? You get the Sassy Seven Authors, a bunch of new series, and the idea for the Naughty Sleepover, a weekend that’s the ultimate girls night out. On October 9 our latest series The Naughty Sleepover will be released by Decadent Publishing. They are all based at The Menger Hotel in San Antonio, Texas, where our Naughty Sleepover is being held in February 2013. And all begin in the historic bar where Teddy Roosevelt met with his Rough Riders.

So first about the event. The weekend begins with a Decadent Chocolate Hour that actually runs all evening and proceeds through a discussion with a Dom, a “special toys” party and male dancers in the evening. (Think Chippendales.) All in good fun and a chance to go wild in a friendly environment. Check it out at We even have a payment plan for registration so your budget is safe.

And now for the stories.

Sugar Girl by Nicole Austin 

A guy walks into a bar… And finds the girl he shouldn’t have left behind. Their differences kept Candy and Jeremiah apart until finally, the road lead them back where they belong. But in the harsh light of the morning after can she really hold on to a shooting star?

 Say Yes by Regina Carlysle 

All work and no play is no way to live and J.D. Stone aims to change that after a chance meeting at the Menger Hotel. When the lonely rancher meets sassy photographer, Melissa Bell, the sparks fly and passions burn hot enough to incinerate them both.

Spank ’Em Cowboy by Samantha Cayto 

Tara hopes to survive her sister’s wedding without a wardrobe malfunction. Rob spots the voluptuous filly and cuts her from the herd. And when she craves someone to take the reins, he knows he’s the right man to saddle her up for the ride of her life.

 More Than You Know by Cerise DeLand 

One redhead. One bartender. Lots of laughter. A desire so tender that the sheets they burn up together could set the hotel on fire. But can he intrigue a woman who’s older? What if he never lets her out of bed? Will she still want him tomorrow?

 Overnight Sensation by Desiree Holt 

Pulled together in a crowd by an instant attraction, Abbie and Sam are powerless against the incendiary combustion that consumes them and turn a chance meeting into an overnight sensation

 Blame it on Texas by Allie Standifer 

Everything’s supposed to be bigger and better in Texas, right? Sexy plus size model Serena Morgan isn’t convinced until Texas country star Kale Winters takes her in a night of passion. Come morning will Kale convince Serena he’s the real deal or Blame it on Texas?

When a Lady Meets a King by Brenna Zinn 

Lady Pembrook went to great lengths, traveling thousands of miles and assuming a false identity to satisfy her fantasy of a one-night stand with a real Texas cowboy. But when a mysterious stranger in dark sunglasses threatens to expose her scandalous behavior, a handsome King comes to the rescue.

Melting Mondays – A Smoking Hot Excerpt from HK Carlton’s ‘Swap’

It’s Melting Monday again, and to make the start of the working week more bearable, here’s an exceedingly hot excerpt from HK Carlton’s debut release, Swap! Warning for those who don’t like this sort of thing: this story centres around a married woman and her equally married brother-in-law being drawn into an irresistible relationship…

He released his hold slowly, and I slid down his body until my feet were back on the floor. The delight fell from his face. My body warmed and my nipples hardened against his chest. He became very still, except for his erection digging into me. Then his hands were in my hair and we dove at each other. Our lips and tongues tangled, our breathing accelerated.

I tugged at the tail of his T-shirt with impatient fingers. He released my lips and raised his arms, helping me to remove his shirt. I pulled the cotton from his chest and over his head. Our eyes locked, and I wondered for a split second if he would stop. If his conscience would take over. He swallowed hard and reached for the hem of my blouse. It was loose enough that we didn’t need to take the time to unbutton it, so I raised my arms and he removed my top.

His eyes roved over the swell of my heaving breasts. He lightly skimmed his hand over my skin as he recaptured my lips. I whimpered into his mouth, feeling weak and dizzy. It felt like heaven to me. I’d waited so long to be kissed this way, by this man. He grazed the side of my breast with his hand. I wriggled and stretched to get closer to him. He spun me around so my back was against the kitchen island, then grabbed my hips and hoisted me up onto the counter. I opened my legs eagerly and accepted him between them. I moaned when his rock-hard cock pressed against my wet, throbbing cunt. I couldn’t help it. He felt incredible.

I wrapped my legs around his hips, holding him to me as I explored his muscular back. I followed the waistband of his jeans around to the button and toyed with it, seeking his permission. When I felt his fingers release the snap on mine, a thrill shot through my body. I undid his jeans and began to ease the zipper down. He mirrored my actions and began to ease his hand inside to cup me. I wiggled to give him room, trembling with the anticipation of his strong fingers finally plunging into my aching pussy.

The phone rang and we jumped apart. He stared at me, his mouth slightly open, his chest heaving. I knew my expression must have been reflecting his.

“Let it ring,” he said breathlessly. I welcomed him back against me as I heard the answering machine pick up. You have reached Cheryl and Mike Leave a message at the tone

His fingers splayed into my slick, wet heat, sending pulses of delicious, fluttering shock waves through me.

He growled deep in his chest. “God, Hails, you’re wet!”

My mouth opened on a silent moan of pleasure as I palmed the full solid length of his cock. He thrust his tongue deep into my open mouth as he did the same with his middle finger inside my pussy. I rocked my hips forward, taking it deeper, demanding more. He slid another finger inside me so maddeningly slowly that I growled with impatience. It was so excruciatingly pleasurable that it burned. He increased the tempo, moving harder and faster, his curled knuckles slapping against my hungry pussy. His thumb butted up against my clit and I almost couldn’t stand the friction grazing the sensitive nub. I gasped, wrapping my hands around the edge of the counter, holding on.

He froze. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” I whimpered weakly on a half sob, my body continuing to moving over his hand even though he had stilled.

Using the fingers of his other hand, he separated my lips, exposing my burning clit to the air. I gasped at this delectable new sensation. It was as if he knew how tender he was making me feel, and he knew exactly what to do to make it better. He began to stroke his fingers inside me again, finding the same tempo and rhythm I liked. It felt incredible. The pistoning action created a slight breeze as his other fingers held my lips open, exposing my aching bud to the cool air. It felt almost like someone blowing softly on it. It felt so fucking good it made me a crazy, frantic ball of violent need, centred solely on one purpose. I was going to come in his hand.

MikeYou home?” I froze at the sound of Cheryl’s voice on the answering machine.

Mike’s panicked gaze met mine. I was caught in suspended animation. On the edge of ecstasy, yet frozen with guilt.

I know you have to be therePick up.”

His eyes darted between me and the phone. I pushed at his hips, telling him to move back. As he did, his talented fingers slipped from my insatiable pussy. “Get it.” I felt almost angry with disappointment, strung tightly as a bow, waiting for any little sensation to splinter me into a million spasming pieces. My skin skittered with tiny pulses.

He was undecided for a split second before answering.

I hopped down off the counter, gathered my top and slid into it.

“Hello.” His voice sounded strangely deep.

I pulled my jeans back into place and quivered when the seam touched my sensitive clit. I pulled up the zipper and closed my eyes at the delicious sensation the buzzing vibration created.

“No, I was outside when I heard the phone ring,” he lied. She must have noticed how out of breath he was.

“No, I’m not up to anything. I was just getting my gear outta the truck.”

Lies, all lies. Her voice rose. I couldn’t hear what she was saying but I knew she was irritated. That was my cue. I caught his attention and thumbed towards the door, mouthing, “I’m gonna go.”

He gave me a look of disappointment, guilt and apology and I silently let myself out.

You can find Swap at Total-E-Bound Publishing, Amazon US, Amazon UK and All Romance eBooks.

Check out HK Carlton’s blog: Pick a Genre, Already! You can also catch her on Facebook and Twitter.

Melting Mondays: Ranae Rose eroticises ‘Wuthering Heights’

My Monday guest today is Ranae Rose, whose erotic revamp of Wuthering Heights for Total-E-Bound’s Clandestine Classics line is out today. Congratulations, and happy release day, Ranae!

* * * * *

Wuthering Heights – Why I Wrote a BDSM Romance Edition

Today is release day for Wuthering Heights – my edition of the beloved literary classic. I revisited Wuthering Heights (one of my favorite books of all time) for the Clandestine Classics imprint (by Total-E-Bound Publishing) and wove an enhanced BDSM erotic romance storyline into the original novel.

I guess that may sound a little shocking at first – at least, if the general media reaction is any indication, it does. But to me, the idea seemed perfectly natural from the get-go. I’ve been a diehard fan of Heathcliff and Cathy for quite a while, and have always dreamed of something more for them – who hasn’t? It’s such a tragic story, and despite Heathcliff and Cathy’s considerable faults, I could never help but admire their passion and want them to be together anyway.

Now, I’m not saying I changed the storyline of the original – I didn’t. In fact, my edition of Wuthering Heights contains each word of the original, plus an enhanced erotic romance storyline woven in, blended with the rest. And as soon as Claire (CEO of Total-E-Bound) approached me about the line, I thought ‘BDSM Wuthering Heights’.

My intent in revisiting Wuthering Heights was to capture the spirit of Heathcliff and Cathy’s romance and to explore that dimension of the story further. It’s my opinion that BDSM practices (such as the bondage and spanking I included) do just that. It was important to me to keep everything in character, and I believe that all the sexual encounters I portrayed are in tune with the dynamics of Heathcliff and Cathy’s relationship (which is anything but a typical relationship, as anyone who’s read WH knows). I wouldn’t have included the bondage or spanking if I hadn’t thought it perfectly in tune with the characters; Wuthering Heights is too precious to me to stray away from the true spirit and dynamics of the story. Heathcliff and Cathy are extreme characters who live and die ensnared by an extreme sort of love; I don’t think the sexual practices I’ve written about are overly-extreme for them at all. In fact, I think readers will be surprised by the tenderness of their ‘BDSM’ sexual relationship. And I’ve included an excerpt in this post so you can have a taste of Heathcliff and Cathy’s new adventures – or rather, the adventures that always seemed to be simmering beneath the surface, just out of reach … perhaps written down on some hidden pages.

Heathcliff must have been similarly afflicted, for he glimpsed my departure and, unbeknownst to me, followed me out of doors. He made his presence known in the stable, giving me a terrible fright by striding into the tack room and laying a hand on my shoulder just as I was reaching for my saddle. “It’s too dark to ride,” he told me. “There’s only a sliver of a moon tonight—try it and you shall cause your mare to break her leg out on the marsh.”

He stepped in front of me and my ire rose—to think that he should try to prevent me from relieving my torturous feelings when it was he who caused them in the first place! I told him that I would not ride my mare out onto the marsh, for I was not a fool, and demanded that he remove himself from my way, or else saddle my horse for me.

He had the gall to refuse, and promised that we would ride together in the morning, when our journey would be made safe by the light of the sun.

I assured him that I could not possibly pass the night in my current state, and that I desired escape from the house and the distress he had caused me.

He said he would stay with me till morning, and that we might weather the darkness together. Ignorant of the true meaning of his words and the potential of his suggestion, I succumbed to a rather spectacular fit of temper, furious that he should continue to detain me. Using my fingernails as a cat uses its claws, I struck his chest and shoulders, attempting to make him stumble or shrink away from me so that I might slip by him and seize my saddle.

He did neither, and instead stood as steadfastly as a stone wall, unyielding to my vicious efforts to move him. After a few moments, I began to feel ashamed, for I could see that I had marred his chest with a red furrow that stood out just above the collar of his shirt, which was the only garment he wore on the upper half of his body. At that moment, I made up my mind to abandon him and the saddle, silently vowing that I would ride my mare bareback, under the light of the moon. When I turned on my heel and attempted to escape the tack room, Heathcliff seized me around the waist and pulled me against himself, wrapping me so tightly in his arms that I might as well have been bound by heavy chains.

I shouted for him to release me, but as I struggled, something curious happened—my skin warmed and my every nerve seemed to hum with excitement, as if suddenly brought to a new kind of life by the intimate position I shared with Heathcliff. I continued to writhe, but the friction my motions created became a sort of pleasure in and of itself, and I knew that it had affected a change in Heathcliff too, for I heard him groan and felt him shift against me, pressing something hard against the small of my back. This development sent a shiver of exhilaration down my spine, though at the time, I still possessed only the vaguest of ideas as to what would occur next. Heathcliff’s intent became clearer when he laid his hands on my shoulders and turned me about so that I faced him. I’d scarcely met his eyes when he pressed me against a wooden beam, pinning me against it with the weight of his own body. The rigid rod tenting the front of his trousers now pushed against my belly, caught betwixt our bodies—a fact I could not help but be aware of. I acknowledged its presence with a breathless gasp, and a thrill of expectation went through me when his dark eyes met mine. I had looked into them many a time, and yet, never had I seen the gleam I saw then, the intensity of which was the cause of my excitement.

“Listen to me, Cathy,” he said. “It’s only the two of us. You must listen to me when it’s only us—you may command me in the others’ presence, but that shall stop when we are alone together.”

I possessed neither the power nor the will to contradict him—not when his gaze held me captive more effectively than his grip, and his body felt so powerful against mine. We had stolen kisses before, and the sensations I’d felt then were much like the ones I experienced as he held me there, his eyes full of promise—promise of what, exactly, I had yet to discover.

As I stilled and said nothing, a look of satisfaction flashed in his eyes. I expected a kiss, or perhaps a tender caress, and was much perplexed when he broached an unexpected and less pleasant subject.”Do you remember when I first came to Wuthering Heights, years ago?” As he spoke, he plucked a familiar instrument from the wall—a riding crop.

“Yes,” I replied, somewhat breathlessly. “Of course.”

“Ah,” he said, leaning close to me again, so that his breath warmed my lips when he breathed, “Then you remember spitting at me because you were angry that your father brought me home to you instead of a new riding crop.” He raised the crop he gripped in his hand so that the flap of leather on the end touched my face. Ever so slowly, he stroked my cheek, and the touch of leather against my skin was as gentle as a breeze. I can’t yet reason why, but I quivered with elation, even as guilt assailed me, conjured by the memory he had invoked.

“I was but a child,” I protested, “and that was a dozen years ago.”

“You spat at me and then turned your back. You refused to allow me into your bed,” he reminded me.

“You have spent many nights in my bed since,” I said.

“Years ago,” he replied. “A habit that we quit when we left childhood behind. I have given it some thought and I rather think that it’s a practice we should take up again.”

I’ll swear my heart skipped a beat at the notion of sharing my bed with Heathcliff, and what that would mean now that we were older, our relationship having progressed irrevocably beyond our former bond as childhood playmates. I exhaled as he continued to stroke my cheek with the crop, a rhythmic motion that seemed to promise much more than gentle caresses. “That crop,” I worked up the courage to ask, “what do you intend to do with it?”

“Much,” he replied.

I entreated him to tell me more.

“I mean to drive out every last bit of your worries and your defiance, until I am all you can think about, and my name is the only thing you can shout,” he said. “Would you like that?”

I could not deny that his words thrilled me, and told him as much.

He responded by releasing me, leaving me to languish against the beam, eyeing the crop he wielded and the bulge that strained against his trousers. Seeing him in such a state roused something inside me, and inspired in me an admiration that stole my breath away. I felt as if I were seeing Heathcliff not as I had always known him, but as I had always been meant to know him. As I regarded him I considered his words, and at first I thought to protest, but he quelled those intentions with a command I could not deny. “Bend over that saddle,” he said, in a tone so firm that I took a step forward, ignoring my weak knees as I made my way towards the very object that I had been attempting to claw my way to only minutes ago.

The saddle rested on a simple wooden rack that extended from the wall, and was at a level that allowed me to bend over it quite easily—an action which brought a pleased expression to Heathcliff’s face. My heart thrilled at the sight of his satisfaction, and I wriggled anxiously against the leather as I awaited the fulfilment of his lofty promise.

Next, he used a long set of driving reins as one might use a rope, securing my wrists and ankles with a couple of knots, so that I was tied fast to the saddle in a way that would prevent me from rising or slipping. Perhaps it is strange, but this caused me to feel secure, rather than trapped—the knots were comforting because he had tied them. When that was done, he raised my skirt and petticoats above my waist and lowered my drawers, exposing my buttocks. I fear I cannot put into words the excitement I felt when his hand brushed across my bare skin—it was the first time he had touched me there, and I had done so sparingly on a few occasions when my own natural curiosity and daring thoughts of Heathcliff had conspired to overwhelm me. I was soon glad of the restraints he’d created for me, for when he caressed my bottom one last time and then rose at last, I trembled with anticipation and might have fallen if he hadn’t secured me.

“My Cathy,” he said as he stood, surveying me.

This endearment only increased my tremors, and my gaze settled again upon the instrument he held in one hand. He gripped it firmly, his hand much more steady than my own quivering limbs as he stepped behind me.”Count each strike of my whip, Cathy,” he instructed. “Cry out if you wish, cry my name—anything you desire, but don’t forget to count, unless you wish me to stop. I shall continue as long as you persist counting. And if anytime you should stop counting, I shall stop too.”

* * * * *

Ranae Rose is the bestselling author of over a dozen paranormal, historical and contemporary romances, all of them delightfully steamy. She lives on the US East Coast with her family, dogs and horses and spends most of her time letting her very active imagination run wild, penning her next story. When she’s not writing, she can usually be found in the saddle or behind a good book with a cup of tea.

For more information on Wuthering Heights and Ranae’s many other erotic romances, visit:

Connect with Ranae on Twitter: @Ranae_Rose

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Melting Mondays Guest – Marlene Sexton on Devious Submission

A warm welcome to this week’s Melting Mondays guest, Marlene Sexton! Take it away, Marlene… 😀


Devious Submission is the first episode of a new serial erotic romance.  I’ve become interested in writing serials, stories that are presented in episodes like TV shows.  Each episode has a beginning and end but there is also a series long story line and possibly other story lines that span one or more episodes.  I think it’s a great way to present stories on e-reading devices to readers that are on the go.  No $15 cover price, no commitment to 700 pages of story that may or may not be satisfying and stories that can be read on an airplane flight or the bus to the office.

The Submission Series, as I call it, is an erotic thriller.  The sex is explicit and hot with a lot of BDSM and the rest of the story is full of action and intrigue.  The story follows a woman that involves herself with a billionaire for payment but it turns into so much more, no one is who they seem and every one had secrets.  Basically, erotic romance meets daytime soap.  Here’s a little taste:

I went inside as directed by the driver and took a seat in the parlor. The house was big and reminded me of an old lodge. Suddenly I was keenly aware of how short my dress really was and how deeply the neckline plunged. I was also aware of how excited I’d become. Mr. Remington was in his early fifties, but he was still a sexy man. His short hair with gray on the sides, angular face with a trimmed beard with a streak of gray and athletic body were right up my alley, but it was his power that turned me on.

A beautiful, conservatively dressed woman interrupted my thoughts as she entered the room. She had shoulder length blonde hair curled under and was thin and fit. “So, you’re Nathan’s latest? Not bad, if a little thin. I’m guessing those are real,” she said as she sat opposite me on a matching sofa. Her voice had a hard edge to it.

“Excuse me?” I asked startled by her abruptness.

“Your tits. They’re real aren’t they?” she asked again.

“Yes. Who are you?” I asked.

“Of course, I should have known. I’m Muriel, Nathan’s wife,” the woman told me.

“Oh, I…um…,” I stammered but Mr. Remington saved me.

“Dear, annoying my mistress again?” he said as he walked into the room.

“Just saying hello to the little slut. Nice meeting you, Ms…,” Muriel explained and then paused.

“Wilson. Kimmie Wilson,” I responded.

“Oh, how…quaint. Let me guess. Farm girl looking to find her fortune in the big city? Well, nice meeting you Ms. Wilson. I’m sure my husband will enjoy beating you or whatever it is he does with the whores he brings home. I’ll be upstairs, Nathan,” Muriel said as if just uttering the words disgusted her. I watched her go as she left the room. She was only thirty-seven and very pretty. I felt horrible for her. Why would Mr. Remington do this too her, I wondered.

“Should I have Carl bring you more vodka and valium, dearest?” Mr. Remington asked as she left.

“Fuck you, Nathan!” she responded bitterly from the stairs in the foyer.

“Don’t mind her. She’s a drama queen. Anymore we’re husband and wife in name only. I wish things were different but…,” Mr. Remington said to put me at ease and then left his thought hanging. I almost felt bad for Mr. Remington.

“I won’t let it bother me, Mr. Remington,” I answered.

“Call me, Nate. Please. Can I get you something to drink?” he asked. He seemed different than I had heard. I’d been told he was a severe man but he seemed charming and friendly, an act no doubt.

“Yes, please, Mr. Rem…I mean Nate,” I answered.

“What’s your poison?”

“I like white wine.”

“White wine it is. While out drinks are on the way, why don’t you slip out of that dress for me,” Nate said.

“Here? Now?” I asked surprised at his request. His wife was upstairs yet he wanted me to undress in the parlor? Modesty aside, I found the request to be rather exciting. Still, I was hesitant.

“Yes. Right here and right now, Kimmie. I don’t like having to ask twice,” he said and I didn’t miss the edge in his voice. He took a seat in the leather chair between the two matching sofas and pushed a button on the black box sitting on the table next to him. I stood and began to slip out of my dress.

Episode 2, Desperate Submission, is out now as well as the first Episode, Devious Submission.  All five episodes will be released during autumn 2012 and are available at the ebook retailers below:

Amazon Kindle Store US
Amazon Kindle Store UK
Barnes & Noble

To get more information about my books or to connect with me check out my blog, follow me on Twitter or like me on Facebook:

Marlene’s Blog:

Melting Mondays Guest – Tanith Davenport on the F/F Dynamic

This week’s guest is Tanith Davenport, who’s here to talk about her love of F/F. Welcome, Tanith!

The Female Dynamic

I’ve often wondered why I like writing f/f stories. It’s not, after all, something I have much experience with. I know what women like, of course – that’s the advantage of being one – but applying that to someone else? Less my area of expertise. But there’s nothing to say a writer has to only write what she knows, and let’s face it, it would probably be a boring world for readers if that were true (although possibly more interesting for writers, not to mention their partners).

But there are disadvantages to writing f/f, I’ve found. Too many female pronouns, for one thing. “She put her hand on her breast” – whose breast? Hers or hers? And there is a certain rhythm to m/f sex which makes scenes easy to pace. With women, I find reciprocity difficult. Unless you use a toy or do a 69, I find it hard to choreograph whose fingers go where in a mutual scene, so I often end up taking it in turns.

However, you know what I really like? The dynamic.

With m/f sex, I find myself fighting to push gender roles out of my head. Either they’re following tradition or they’re going against it. With two women (or indeed two men) there’s no tradition to worry about. Their roles are identical. They can adopt power roles, switch them round or ignore them completely. And that’s what makes it so much fun to write.

Plus it means that I can write sorority-based erotica without finding an excuse to sneak a frat boy in. Hell, they can even be roommates. It solves so many problems.

Excerpt from Tanith’s Assume the Position, from the anthology Campus Sexploits 3:

“And then five seconds of downward dog.” Keeping her palms flat on the floor, Elyse pushed her body upwards, lowering her head, legs close together and ass pointing straight at the ceiling.

Oh God.

Elyse’s jeans were impossibly tight, the red lace of Elyse’s thong underwear exposed above the waistband, and Tamar gripped the edge of the bed as desire flooded through her body. Barely aware of what she was doing, she slid to the edge of the bed, staring greedily at Elyse’s denim-clad ass as she held the pose, three seconds, four seconds, five –

And then, unable to resist, she leaned forward and smacked one cheek.

Elyse let out an outraged squeal and dropped to her knees. She looked back over her shoulder at Tamar, dark tendrils of hair falling over her eyes, which had narrowed wickedly.

“Okay. Let’s see you do it then.”

A small part of Tamar’s alcohol-fogged brain suggested this was a bad idea in a short skirt, but Tamar found herself rolling off the bed join Elyse on the floor. Remembering what Elyse had done, she laid herself flat as Elyse sat up alongside her and watched, her skin tingling under her friend’s intent stare.


Elyse’s hand slid under her stomach, and Tamar suppressed a gasp.

“Now lift.”

Tamar pushed down with her hands and lifted, guided by Elyse’s hand, until her bottom was as high as it could go.

“Now hold. Five seconds.”

Tamar closed her eyes.


There was motion beside her, and she sensed that Elyse had stood up. A thrill ran over her skin as footsteps slowly moved to pause behind her.


Elyse was right behind her, and Tamar was suddenly conscious of her position; ass in the air, covered only by a short skirt and panties which were growing increasingly moist.


Her gut clenched at the picture she must be making. Elyse hadn’t moved, and she could hear short, staccato breaths behind her, which must mean that Elyse was –


Without warning, hands abruptly jerked to her bottom, pushing her skirt up over her hips, and before she could speak they had hooked into her panties and yanked them down to her knees.

Melting Mondays Guest – Polly J. Adams on Knee-Tremblers

I’m going to try to schedule in as many Monday guests as I can from now on, and here’s the first: Polly J. Adams. Welcome, Polly!


I didn’t realise I was writing a serialised erotic romance when I started on the first story. I decided I wanted to write a few fast-paced, explicit short stories, and I decided to call them ‘Knee-tremblers’. The trouble was that as soon as I started on the first one, a simple tale of a knee-trembler at a party with a friend’s husband, the characters got into my head and wouldn’t leave. What would be the consequences of that quick knee-trembler? How would it affect the friendship? And surely it must be a one-off event – they wouldn’t do it again, would they?

This developed into a set of five stories following this little menage, with a series of twists revealing that there was far more going on than a simple knee-trembler. Unlike a lot of erotic fiction, this was more about the characters and story. Sure, there was still plenty of sex, but it was there was a lot more to it.

Those five stories brought the sequence to a conclusion, and my protagonist had gone from sexually curious to a sexual adventurer, but still I couldn’t shake her off. Pretty soon, I’d launched into a follow-up series, which I called Indulgence, after the sex club where much of the action would take place.

This second set was the real romance story: my protagonist wanting more than just casual sex, becoming intrigued by the enigmatic owner of Indulgence and their growing relationship.

The set of eight stories are available separately, or all together in a single volume, which is, effectively, an erotic romance novel. It was fun, and it’s definitely something I’ll do again. In fact, I’m working on one right now.

Extract: Knee-tremblers and Indulgence: an omnibus edition (all eight stories in a single volume)

Sometimes, just sometimes, I dig myself a hole and then I keep on digging.

It all started at a dinner party. A group of friends, some colleagues from work. One of those colleagues, Katie, brought her husband, Reuben, having already confided in me that their marriage was on its last legs and they were trying to breathe a bit of life back into it. Her husband was hot, we flirted, we sat next to each other at dinner, our legs touched, his hand strayed to my lap. You know how it goes.

All of it, just a bit of flirting. Some fun. I could have left that party and thought no more of it. I’m a flirty kind of person. I like a laugh. I like a bit of innuendo. I like to engage with someone and think that maybe in another life something could have happened.

But no, he was married to my new colleague and they were struggling to get their relationship back on track and so while flirting was probably a bit too much, there could certainly be nothing more.

So we went through and fucked in our host’s bathroom, urgent and intense up against the door.

Like I say, I dig my holes and then I dig them deeper.

So, we’d crossed a line, but maybe we could still put it behind us. Except, he got my number, started to text, started to tell me how he couldn’t get me out of his head and I realised he wasn’t just stringing me a line. I couldn’t get him out of my head either.

Text messages became a phone call, which led to him visiting my apartment one evening when he should have been at home fucking his wife, who’d had an entire evening planned for him.

I felt bad about that. Of course I felt bad. But by then we’d been taken over. Nothing was going to stop us.

Not even a gangbang at a club Reuben had taken me to. Me blindfolded, men – I’ve no idea how many men! – taking it in turns  to fuck me and wank over me, so that I ended the evening covered in semen and sweat and tangled in Reuben’s arms at the centre of a mass of bodies.

That night we definitely crossed a line.

Where do you go from there?

You go back to work the next Monday, that’s what you do. You spend the morning quietly tucked away in your office, head down in paperwork, trying to forget your lunch date with Katie.

Just in case you ever find yourself in the same situation: that’s what you do.