Wednesday, April 28, 2010


We predict the future is bright for Selena Illyria with two new books releasing days apart and more contracts for this year and next. Now we this the blog back to our wonderful guest author.

I hope you’ve enjoyed a few peeks into my many words. I had so much fun writing them. One last sneak peek before I go?

Coming April 29, 2010

Selena Illyria
ISBN: 978-1-60521-402-3
Changeling Press

Werewolf Silvano wants a break from the drama in pack business. A night out is exactly what he needs. He doesn’t count on his rival’s familiar Hexuba strolling into Last Call.
Black Cat shifter and Wizard's familiar, Hexuba, has always wanted Silvano even though he’s the enemy. One night is all she asks to indulge her wildest fantasies with him. Come morning she’ll be gone.

Will one night be enough?

Silvano stood in his bathroom staring at his foggy reflection in the mirror. He drew in a breath and blew it out. Tension sung through his body as he prepared himself for the monthly fuckfest. Or, as his elders liked to call it, the compatibility test. He didn't buy it for a second. Find your mate by fucking them. He scoffed at the notion but there wasn't much he could do about it. Either he slept with all the available females in his pack to find a suitable alpha female or he lost his pack. So it was decreed in the pack bylaws, the rules his father had followed as laid out by his father before him and so on and so on, ad nauseam.

As a hormone-driven youth, he'd reveled at the chance to fuck so many willing women. Now, as an adult of thirty-four, with his thirty-fifth birthday right around the corner, he was tired of it. All of it. He'd fucked practically every available woman in the pack. His father had even thought of bringing in women from an allied pack to see if he would fit better with one of them. He'd turned them all down. It wasn't just the sex that was tiresome, but also the elders and his second lieutenant, the rules, the obligations...

He was alpha, the leader, and yet he couldn't make up new rules or lead his people the way he wanted. The system was antiquated, governed by laws and decorum that didn't fit into today's world of paraphiles, people obsessed with the paranormal and all aspects of it. The young pups lived in a sort of static environment, caught between tradition and the modern age where werewolves could blend in with the normal populace without being shunned for doing so.

The other problem on his horizon was twofold. One was from an ex-pack member, Turk. The man had been begun to dabble in the dark arts, accessing the magick in his blood from his wizard ancestry all in a bid to take over the pack that had exiled him long ago. Silvano feared for his once childhood friend. According to reports, Turk was going insane, being driven by dark forces. There was very little Silvano could do short of killing the man, and he was reluctant to do so. Many in both packs had blamed him for Turk's current behavior. Silvano had refused to step aside during the pack challenge and let Turk win.

He shook his head. Silvano couldn't have allowed that. The man was unstable. And now there was the problem of Turk's black cat familiar: Hexuba. Just thinking her name heated his blood. His cock went from flaccid to semi-hard. He could see her face, the velvety dark chocolate colored eyes. Just a glance made him want to drag her someplace private, away from distractions, and discover what secret places on her body made her cry out and moan.

"Fucking hell." He fisted his cock at the base and stroked slowly, allowing the arousal to grow. "Hex." He hissed out her name as his mind painted her image among the wisps of steam. Her delicate nose, high cheekbones and lush, full lips came into view. He groaned again as his thoughts drifted to feeling those lips against his as she explored his body. Silvano could feel the pebbled tips of her nipples scraping across his belly as she moved downward. He wanted to feel her mouth on him, feel her tongue lap at the slit atop his cock-head before swallowing him whole.

The fantasy continued to build as his imagination painted Hex on her knees, lips dragging along his hardened length. The minx would tease him, giving him just enough pressure to send pulses of pleasure up his spine and throughout his body before releasing his cock. She would lap up his seed while pumping him with her hand before returning to torment him with her mouth, and he would love every minute of it.

"Silvano, are you ready?" a high-pitched female voice called out.

The fantasy evaporated just like the steam and he swore. His cock lost some of its hardness as real life came crashing in. With a sigh, he shook his head. "Time to do my duty."

Due to release May 5th


Selena Illyria
ISBN: 978-1-60737-570-8

Revenge is what Syrus sought.

Jessye was just trying to adjust to having both a consort and new leader.

Desire burns hot but the past and stubbornness stands between them. Can they work together to stop a madwoman and preserve their new clan? Or will they destroy each other before they can even meet in the middle ground.

Love, lust, need, revenge can all be tainted. Forgiveness and acceptance can heal it all.


It's been a pleasure having Se with us this week. You can learn more about Selena Illyria and her fabulous work on her website and blog.

I'll be back Monday. Until then...

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell

Tuesday, April 27, 2010


Selena Illyria is back to share insight on another of her exciting books CHOCOLATE SNAKE BITE. Here's what Se has to say:

I decided to delve into a relationship that I’d mentioned in my books Mudslide and White Russian (both books are a part of the Del Fantasma collection). I had fun writing this story, it was great to finally take a peek at the Snake Demon Court. Like Chocolate Bliss, I had this story rolling around my head for quite awhile and like Chocolate Bliss I planned to write an orgy scene but never really got to it. Somehow it seemed to take away from the true story.

And now for your pleasure is my latest offering to the Del Fantasma line from Aspen Mountain Press.

Selena Illyria
ISBN: 978-1-60168-285-7
Aspen Mountain Press

Every relationship has problems and for months now all Dale and Val have been doing is fighting. He wants it to stop. So drastic times call for drastic measures. Dale takes the Love’s Bane potion hoping that Val will be too busy lusting after him to fight with him, but sex can’t solve every problem.

Val doesn’t want part of her lover. She wants all of him, even the dark aspects of his sexual desire. She yearns for his brand but every time she brings up the subject he shuts her down. How can they communicate when he won’t open up?

Will the arrival of his brothers and a trip to the Demonic Snake court help their relationship or hurt it?

"Don't do it," Cody warned.

Dale looked into Cody's hard sea blue gaze and nearly reconsidered his actions. His thoughts turned to Val and the last few weeks. He shook his head, path resolved. "I have to do it. There is no other way."

"This kind of magick isn't something you just pickup. It's not something you mess around with. Do you even know what's in this so-called aphrodisiac?"

Dale winced. "No. Look, it comes from a reliable person. I trust my source."

"What does Pietro say about this? After all, that kind of potion is restricted to demons." Cody picked up a glass and started cleaning up. His eyes focused on Dale, making him squirm.

"He doesn't know..." Dale's voice trailed off as guilt surfaced for the umpteenth time. Ever since the thought had entered his mind about gaining a small sample of the Love's Bane, He'd felt guilty. Pietro. King of the Demons, was one of his best friends. If he found out what Dale was up to, Pietro would have his balls.

"Let me remind you why it's banned. Love's Bane is an aphrodisiac that is highly addictive. Taken in high quantities it could poison you. If there hadn't been a pact between demons and warlocks the magickal beings would still be trying to destroy your asses with it. So, I don't care how bad your relationship problems are. Don't. Do. It."

Dale looked away from Cody. "Look, I'm at my wit's end. I don't know what to do about Val. She and I have been fighting, a lot. I mean we're a passionate couple, but it's just too much lately. I'm starting to worry that she'll want to break it off with me."

He loathed feeling so vulnerable. "I'm Dale Thornston, heir to the Serpentine Throne, the fourth most powerful house in all of Demon world and I'm here, sulking in a bar, drowning my troubles in some drink called Chocolate Snake Bites and talking to you about things I would never tell another soul, not even my best friends or brothers. It's pathetic. I should be home fucking the daylights out of my mate, not here. If she hadn't had to work late, again..." He stopped talking and dragged a hand over his face. "I'm tired of being alone at home."
"The why don't you ask her about her feeling instead of doing something stupid?" Cody asked.

"Such a simple question. Don't you think I've tried that? We either get interrupted or in a fight and I always end up sticking my foot in my mouth. It just feels like we're never going to stop fighting. It doesn't help there's a new guy in her office and it's very clear that bastard wants what's mine." His stomach roiled. Anger boiled in his veins as an image of Val's new co-worker and boss, a werewolf, rose in his mind. The bastard had made it clear he wanted Val and would play dirty to get her.


I guarantee CHOCOLATE SNAKE BITE is a thigh-clenching book you'll want to read several times. We'll be back tomorrow with more from Selena Illyria. Until then...

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell

Monday, April 26, 2010


This week we have the spellbinding and effervescent Selena Illyria with us. Selena's work covers a wide scope with each enchanting story guaranteeing satisfaction. You can learn more about Selena and her work on her website. And now, a few words from Selena...

Hi Everyone!

The wonderful Sloane asked me to guest on her blog and I just wanted to say thank you so much, Sloane! I’m here to talk about some of my latest releases.

The first one up is from the Sex and Chocolate multi-author series at Changeling Press.

Selena Illyria
ISBN: 978-1-60521-401-6
Changeling Press

All Connor wanted was for his significant other Roxi to relax. Opening her new café has been stressing her out. So to help her unwind he concocts his special Bliss Out Hot Chocolate. Only it doesn't go quite as planned.

Roxi's not relaxed at all. The seal containing her succubus nature is deteriorating and the hunger for sex is wearing down her self-control. Connor calls on his best friend, an incubus, for help.

Tired of losing control, she'd sought out the advice of a witch who told about the sealing ceremony. "The magicks involved are volatile and dangerous. You could die," the witch had warned her.

"I don't care. Just make it happen." Guilt, fear, anger and desperation had driven her to this point. She wanted either to die or have the monster inside of her sealed away if it couldn't be killed. Roxi felt as if the hungers were trying to claw their way out of her. Every second that went by, a little more of her control eroded away. The arousal extended thin fingers, tracing light touches up and down her spine. It lit nerve endings on fire and caused her pussy to contract. Her clit ached for a touch, anything to ease the need.

The world was a swirl of heat and desire. She swallowed and tried to push it all down. The power only shoved right back. Roxi stumbled backward and gasped as the energy surged upward. It stole her breath and sent her head spinning. She tried to breathe through the heat that was consuming her. A hand settled on her shoulder. Roxi looked up to find herself staring into calm, steady, golden eyes. Rough fingertips trailed over her cheek. She turned into the touch. Her lips connected with his palm. Without hesitation she kissed the soft skin and sighed. The desire simmered in her veins, but for the first time since her changing, she could control it.

Roxi closed her eyes and kissed his hand again. She inhaled his scent, a mixture of musk edged with something wild and chaotic. The effects of his cologne rushed through her. It sparked fires within her. Her succubus nature didn't rise. Instead, it lay content at this man's feet. He pulled his hand away. For a moment the need came roaring back, out of control. Then it was pushed away when he cupped her chin, leaned forward and kissed her.

The first touch of his mouth was tentative, hesitant. When she didn't push him away, the kiss became more. She heard his heartbeat in her head. The sweet and salty tastes of blood rolled around her mouth. Roxi hungered for him to sink deep inside of her until they were one. A thirst for his blood rose up so strong that she bit him. Instead of moving away from her, he groaned. She felt his arms wrap around her. He pulled her close. When their hips touched, she felt his erection pressing against her stomach. Her pussy contracted. Desire dampened her panties. She wanted to feel every inch of him inside of her, fucking her hard.

Roxi broke the kiss. Her breath came out in soft pants as desire threatened to tug under its riptide. She looked up at him. Although her gaze was pulled toward his golden eyes, she studied his features fully from his high brow, to his sculpted cheekbones, aquiline nose and sensual lips. What shocked her most were the scars that slashed through his cheek and dragged the left side of his mouth down.

She reached up and traced the fine lines lightly.

He grabbed her wrist. The world stopped. Fear that she had done something wrong caused her to look away.

"It's okay. The wounds still hurt, that's all. Besides, I'd rather have your nails tearing up my back." He smiled. Heat flushed her cheeks as she imagined their legs tangled with one another as their bodies moved together, trying to reach climax. "I'm Connor, by the way, reformed warlock."

He gave her a kiss which made her smile against his mouth. She kissed him back. Roxi lifted her hand and threaded her fingers through his hair. The silken strands trailed against her palm and sent pleasure up her arm. He rocked his hips against hers, and she moaned and grabbed a handful of hair. Roxi pulled back to look up at him. "Don't start something you can't finish."


I had so much going on when it came time to write this story. It had been rolling around in my head for a long while, but I didn’t have time. Once I sat down to write it the story had changed quite a bit. The characters had decided to switch things on me. Don’t you hate/love when that happens? Their way was much easier to envision. I’d had a lot going on in my original plan. Like an orgy scene. I have no clue how I would have written it. Now I actually wanna see if I can. LOL. Hmmm…


The next book is also from Changeling Press. It comes from the multi-author series Bedtime Stories. The stories are set in a fictional e-publisher where you get to peek into the lives of some of the staff and writers, very sexy fun, I assure. My story takes a peek into the life of Kelsey, cover artist at Bedtime Press. She’s an elemental and a cat shifter who’s in heat. So when she makes a wish the results are… well, I’ll let you find out.

Selena Illyria
ISBN: 978-1-60521-120-6
Changeling Press

Cover artist Kelsey is on a deadline for Bedtime Press but her elemental powers are out of control. As a cat shifter, she's in heat, which is interfering with her concentration. An electrical surge, power outage and the appearance of two sexy digital models come to life may be the answer to her prayers.

One session and you were hooked like a moronic fish.

Shut up, you, before I find the catnip. Besides, look at what we can do now.

Oh, of course it was all worth it. Digital models you can drool over. Do they come to life? Are they willing to fuck us to stop this damn heat? Hmmm? Didn't think so.

Kelsey rolled her eyes. She opened a few images of her past work. Comparing then to now showed she'd improved immensely. Life before the Electric Ray 3-D plus package had seemed mundane. Going back to outdated models that looked awkward and at times not even attractive was impossible, not when she could make them so lifelike.

Kelsey whimpered as she looked up at the walls. Framed artwork of some of her digital art goddesses were lined up neatly in a row. Gorgeous models in various erotic poses and situations with so much detail they were surreal. Effective use of layering, colors and utilizing various brushes, all to create mini masterpieces. With Electric Ray 3-D she would be one step closer to the perfection she found in work from Leslie Stella or Anne Renée. Kelsey cursed her current situation.

To make things worse, the cover art requests were piling up. She'd just managed to send out her last cover only to get five more last minute requests. A scream rumbled up from her throat. It expanded and pushed upward, ready to burst forth. All she could do was swallow it down. No use getting frustrated. Work was work. Getting paid to feed her software habit was of the utmost importance.

Besides, anger was not good in this situation. Her energies were acting up. It was bad enough being a cat shifter who had gone into heat, but to be an elemental witch, as well, whose gift was electricity, was very dangerous to her equipment. She couldn't afford to call Troll and request another custom built system along with the charge that went with reloading her software. Every time she was late with a cover or asked for some new software or computer equipment, that was another year to her contract. So far she was up to twenty years.

With a sigh, she got to work. Kelsey brought up her favorite new models, Jonny and Maximus. A quick scan of the printout for the cover art request form and she was off to the races. She'd blindly reach out and hit repeat or play on her little CD player while adjusting this and that. After four hours, she was almost happy with what she'd gotten accomplished. The poses were what the author had requested, and the background was almost right, but something felt off.

She peered at the screen. They don't look lifelike enough. Kelsey saved her work and put it on her backup disc before she went searching on the internet for something that would help make it look right. Scrolling through the forums of her favorite artwork sites, she tried not to drool at some of the things she saw. There was a new package out for elf garb and some new action features she coveted with a vengeance. Then there was the movie star look-alike bundle that made her fingers tingle with want.

"It's too bad I can't use any of this," Kelsey murmured with a sigh. She didn't have enough hours in the day to test out the latest rendering tech. Vacation time was impossible when you were on Troll's clock.

After two hours, she still hadn't found what she was looking for, so she loaded up her art program again and got to work trying to figure out where she went wrong. After deconstructing her cover she discovered what the trouble was. There was no spark, no it that made the models look alive. No amount of rendering software could replace the ghost in the machine, as it were.

"They don't look lifelike enough, but I'll damn well try. Gotta keep tweaking the UV map and shader editor."

Kelsey got up and put on another pot of coffee. She did a few yoga stretches before pouring a cup of java and getting back to work. Life faded around her until it was just her and the cover art. She used every trick she could think of to make the models seem as close to human as possible. Midnight had come and gone, and she was so buzzed she felt jittery, but none of that mattered. She was so close to finding what she was looking for.

Kelsey took a moment to look at the screen. She saw the sharp features, rugged good looks and chiseled abs of Maximus and almost drooled. Then there was the lean, athletic body of Jonny with high cheek bones, a boyish grin and a twinkle in his eye. "Damn, I wish these guys were real."

Energy surged through her body. The hairs on the back of her arms and neck rose. Kelsey cursed before a major burst of power erupted from her fingertips, frying the keyboard and monitor. The lights in her office flickered before they went out.

Sound yummy?


My next offering is from the Strange Hollow series at Liquid Silver Books. Strange Hollow is a place where outcasts find inclusion and a community to support them. Are you vampire who prefers V-8 to blood or a werewolf who suffers from Selenophobia? Then Strange Hollow the place for you. You’ll find acceptance and support. My offering to the series is about a witch who has no magic and a werewolf who was exiled from his pack.

Selena Illyria
ISBN 978-1-59578-681-4
Liquid Silver Books

All Nia Reynolds has known is being seen and not heard. Being the only one in her family to not have magical ability is hard. On her thirtieth birthday, all Nia wants is to do something different. When she enters Sensual Were on a dare from Jacinda, she doesn't expect the instant attraction to sexy store manager Bishop Steward.

Bishop has had his eye on the sweet and innocent Nia since he first came to Strange Hollow. After being publicly shunned by his pack and his mate, he came to Strange Hollow to recuperate and be among outcasts like himself. Now that his heart is mended, he wants to go after love again and has Nia in his sights. This wallflower doesn’t stand a chance against his onslaught. So what if he insists of public displays of a sexual nature, can’t stop whispering sweet, dirty nothings in her ear, and gives her a birthday to remember? It’s only for a night, right? A sexy werewolf like him wouldn’t want a shy girl like her? Right? Wrong--and he's got a lot of tricks up his sleeve to convince her she’s just what he wants.

Thirty. The big three-O. Another year older. Nia sighed heavily and contemplated the looming specter just a few days away. Birthdays weren't a bad thing per se, but when you lived such an unremarkable life, as she had, there wasn't really much to celebrate. She was an anomaly in her family, the only one lacking magical ability. Nia couldn't even perform the most basic of spells like warming water or levitating a feather.

Isolation became a constant companion when she mingled in magical circles. Everywhere she turned, her contemporaries were doing extraordinary things. All Nia could do was fade into the background like a wallflower. She got so used to being invisible that she automatically hid in a corner at social functions. She had lived her life in corners and it was starting to wear on her.

She'd broken out of that life nine years ago when she stumbled upon an Internet ad for Strange Hollow. The town was for outcasts and anomalies of the paranormal variety like her--people who just didn't fit in. So on her twenty-first birthday she packed up as many of her things as she could carry and left in the middle of the night, without even leaving a note to her parents. Now she had a life of her own. Nia owned her own teashop, Pot Luck, had a cottage that she loved and a few friends that accepted her. The one thing that was missing was someone to share her life with.

She had just begun to clean the counter when the bells over the door jangled. Nia glanced toward the entrance and smiled. Jacinda, the town's founder, strolled into the shop. The fairy's energy sent a soothing wave toward her, and she instantly felt at ease.

"Hello, darling, how're you doing? I'll have a green tea latte." Jacinda sat down on a stool at the counter and leaned forward, mischief sparkling in her eyes.

Nia got to work, hoping Jacinda wouldn't bring up her upcoming birthday and anniversary. If the events weren't mentioned, she wouldn't have to admit she had no plans.

Unfortunately, that wasn't to be. "So, your birthday and anniversary are on Friday. Doing anything special?"

"Nothing." Nia stiffened.

"Not even ice cream and cake or a movie marathon of your favorite films? What about a small party with some friends? No? We can't let this momentous event pass without any acknowledgment. Let me think. What can we do?" Jacinda put her elbows on the counter-top and rested her head in her hands.

Nia didn't want to know what Jacinda was thinking. There was a mischievous sparkle in those violet eyes that she didn't want to read too much into.

"Have you been to Sensual Were?"

Nia wasn't sure where Jacinda was going but she had an uneasy idea. "No," she said softly.

A wicked smile curved Jacinda's lips. "Idea! I dare you to go to Sensual Were and pick up a sexy toy for yourself. Do something daring for once. Honey, you've lived in a corner for far too long, it's time to drag this wallflower into the light."

"But--" Nia started.

"Why but?" Jacinda gazed at her in question. "You've lived your whole life not interacting with people for fear of the disappointment and rejection your parents and others have handed you. Isn't it time you lived for you? Come on, Nia, when have you done something for yourself? I've seen the way you interact with others. You let them tell you what to do, how to do it. You don't do what you want to do. What's there to be afraid of? All I'm suggesting is to check out Sensual Were. Go in there and get something sexy for yourself. You deserve it. Look at you."

Nia knew what she looked like and she was nothing like the gorgeous Jacinda, with her luminescent skin, violet eyes, long dark hair and curvaceous figure. Last she checked, Nia was plain, with unremarkable dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, milk chocolate skin and an average figure. Her simple clothing did nothing to flatter her body. She also wore glasses, and in her book that screamed nerdy and unsexy. To hide her reaction, she said nothing and finished making Jacinda's drink.

"Have you ever felt sexy? What makes you feel good about yourself?"

Heat flushed her cheeks as she thought of her fantasies, which usually involved sexy men who were good with their hands and other things and wanted her unabashedly.

"Come on, sweetie, you can tell me. What makes you feel sexy?"

"Well, um, a sexy, gruff voice--"

Jacinda cut her off with a laugh. "No, no, no, babe, not what is sexy but what makes you feel that way."

The blush encompassed her face, and Nia found herself floundering for a response. "Um, well..."

"Lingerie, perhaps? Or maybe sensual music? How about an erotic story? This is about making you feel desirable and good about yourself. I'm not saying we give you a makeover, you're beautiful. I'm talking about doing something sexy for you and only you, no guy required."

Jacinda smiled, and Nia felt unsure. "I've never... That is to say, I don't know..."

"How about this? Friday you go to Sensual Were and poke around, see what you like, explore and find what intrigues you. Then we meet on Saturday for brunch and talk."

"Talk?" Nia put Jacinda's latte down before her.

"Yeah, we talk about what you thought of your little trip. Honey, you've been here for nine years and you haven't stepped out and explored this place. Including me, Tanya and Ryana are your only friends here." Jacinda took a sip of her drink.

Nia became very interested in her shoes.

"Ry is out of town and Tanya is visiting relatives. Neither woman will be back by Saturday, so it's up to me to coax you out of your shell. So, here's the deal. Barring an emergency, I dare you to go to Sensual Were and pick out something sexy for yourself. Thanks for the latte, hon. I have to go welcome a new resident to Strange Hollow. I'll see you on Saturday." Jacinda stood and picked up her cup.

"Bye," Nia called out as Jacinda left with a backward wave. Once the door closed and quiet settled on the shop, questions and humiliating scenarios swirled around in her head. What if I break something? Her palms began to sweat at the thought of picking up a vibrator and have it start shaking and then shatter in her hands. She'd never been in an adult toy store before. What if it was filled with pictures of naked people? She didn't like looking at herself naked, much less see anyone else in the buff. Well, except for sexy men. Part of her wanted to take up Jacinda's dare and go to Sensual Were. On the other side of the coin, she was terrified of the unknown.



We'll be back tomorrow with more from Selena. Until then...

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell

Thursday, April 22, 2010


The future is bright for talented Clare London who allows her effervescent personality to shine through her work. Clare has a master plan filled with intriguing contracted stories that will be published over the next few years. Today, we focus on her paperback releasing this Sunday from Amber Quill Press. It's a collection of her latest e-books I know you will enjoy.

Clare London
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-798-4 (Paperback)
Amber Quill Press - Amber Allure

BUY LINK goes live April 25, 2010

From two men in the middle of a secret affair, to a young muse bringing inspiration to a failing artist, to an established couple discovering they can still surprise each other, to ex-lovers finding compromise far more important than conflict, this collection of stories celebrates the diversity and delight of lovers who seem mismatched, but whose love is strong enough to find the way to each other’s heart—and a home together.

Previously available only in electronic format, these four stories of gay erotic romance have now been combined for a paperback edition! Included are the tales...


Clare London
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-649-9 (Electronic)
Amber Quill Press - Amber Allure


The attraction between Chaz and Ryan is as strong as ever, but they’ve taken a relationship break, frustrated by each other’s lifestyle. Chaz is a drifter, casual to the point of carelessness. Ryan is a control freak, preferring order and organization. It just wasn’t working between them. When Chaz moves apartments yet again, the project is fraught with chaos and plenty of breakages. Despite Chaz’s determination to be independent, Ryan comes to help out. Chaz admits he’s grateful for the friendly support. Or at least, that's how it starts.

I took a deep breath. “I think I was meant to be changing my own behavior as well. I think I made promises, too. About growing up, about remembering I might have someone else’s interests to consider. Right?”

There was wary gratitude in his eyes. “Yes, you did. You were going to watch yourself, as well.”

We did some more of the staring thing. “Haven’t been too good at it so far, have we?”

“No.” He shook his head, eyes rueful. “Control freak…you said that, plenty of times. I was sweating the small stuff. Chill out, you said. Back off.”

I winced. “Yeah, I can talk shit, too.”

He smiled, genuinely amused I think. “Look, I said before, I don’t want you to be different—”

“No,” I interrupted. “I know that. Wouldn’t work anyway, eh? But it wouldn’t work with you, either.”


“And that’s just how I like you, Ryan Crawford.”

He went very quiet. I couldn’t hear a breath, couldn’t see his chest moving. He worried his lower lip and I couldn’t take my eyes off the gesture. My gut was still disturbed, but it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant feeling. I suspected I knew where this discussion was leading.

“You like…”

“Yeah,” I said, more firmly. “You. As you are. Liked you the first day I met you.” Fell for you shortly after. “Whatever crap I say to the contrary, it’s good to know I can rely on you. Good to know you look out for me. Yeah, you drive me mad. But…” What should I say? How should I say it? He could take a joke like the next guy, but this was something else. “You’re a challenge to me. It’s exciting.”

“You mean the differences?” He was looking at me from under half-lidded eyes.

I held his gaze, trying not to blush like some idiot. “More than that. You…yourself.”

He nodded. Didn’t answer.

It was still my spot on stage. “I can see that this lifestyle of mine is a problem for you.”

“You can?”

“Yeah. And I’m sorry about that, I genuinely am. I guess it wouldn’t hurt me to be a little more responsible. It wouldn’t hurt me to admit that just concentrating on me doesn’t always get me where I want to be. That sometimes I have to backpedal a bit, and mop up a few mistakes. That sometimes I wish…”

Ryan’s mouth opened slightly and he moistened his lips. “Chaz…”

“I wish sometimes I’d thought things out a little more carefully.”

He looked startled. “You mean, like the moving?”

“Uh-huh.” But that wasn’t actually what I was thinking. I was suddenly more concerned that I’d let some pushy blond with cute manners talk me into a separation that—if I’d ever had the sense to realize it—I’d never wanted. I did like the way he looked out for me, provided the anchor for my occasional turbulence. Yeah, I blustered about it but, I’d missed it. And if I’d put some kind of careful thought into the whole separation suggestion, rather than the arrogance I wore like a badge of honor, I might have been able to bring some compromise to the table, rather than a shrug and a surrender. It was a two-way street. Or so someone once told me.

Ryan’s face was a picture—a picture of strange, shocked hope. At least, I hoped that’s what it was, and not permanent hemorrhoids from sitting on the damp, crappy stools that I was sure I’d thrown out after the last move.

“I can see things a little more clearly, too,” he said. His voice wasn’t hoarse anymore. It was soft and low, issuing from those soft yet firm lips of his. Ryan spoke a lot of sense. He could be a fool, same as me, but I knew it was plain cussedness that often prevented me from distinguishing between the two. “I guess I can see that it’s not the end of the world, not having a plan.”

My turn to be startled. “No?”

His face twisted in a wry smile. “Guess that’s something from a control freak like me, eh? Sometimes I like the carefree, the sudden. The spontaneous.”

“You do?”

“I’m working on it. You’re worth it.”

Dammit. That sly grin of his infiltrated my defenses like a rat under a fence. I took another deep breath. “Ryan, I want to do something fairly spontaneous right now, but I’m just not sure how close you are to that coffee machine, which will either explode in your face or you’ll want to beat me off with it—”

He beat me to it, instead. He took two more steps forward, slid his hand around the back of my neck, pulled me forward and kissed me. Hard. His lips were at the firm stage, his palm was slightly sweaty—just how I liked it on my skin—and he smelled like the most delicious thing I could think of, if I’d been able to think clearly at that moment, if his tongue hadn’t been sliding into my mouth, if he hadn’t been whispering against my cheek such incoherent sounds of need, such gasps of please…


Clare London
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-588-1 (Electronic)
Amber Quill Press - Amber Allure


Gavin McGrath’s art career is in ruins, his health is failing, his wife’s left him because of his promiscuity, and he’s alienated people in the industry with his aggressive and arrogant behavior.

But when a full pot of red paint falls on his current canvas, apparently ruining it, it brings a change in his life he never expected. A strange, beautiful young man appears in his studio as his companion and Muse. Matteo is from another time but he understands artists all too well—and now his place is with Gavin.

Matteo brings devotion and inspiration across the centuries, forcing Gavin to take stock of his life and his behavior in the months he has left to him. Eventually Gavin realizes he must reconsider the capacity for love he’s always scorned—before it’s too late for both him and Matteo...

...Matteo yawned slowly, not self-conscious at all. Then, quite calmly, he dropped to the floor and settled himself cross-legged beside my easel. “You said it yourself. You can’t ignore the cries from inside your gut. That painting cries to me.”

Dear God. “And what does it cry to you, Matteo?” The sarcasm wasn’t as sharp as I’d intended. “You said I painted it from life, but that’s nonsense.”

He sucked thoughtfully on the orange, his nose crinkling every time his teeth bit into it. It was an innately charming, affectionate gesture. “It cries life to me. Hurt. Love. Warmth. Death.”

“Clichés,” I snapped. I was surprisingly disappointed in him. He was nothing but a high school critic, a pretentious mimic. No better than Ailsa and some of the other fawning idiots who came around, ostensibly to learn from me. A trespasser.

He shrugged again and reached for the other half of the orange. He’d sucked the first half quite dry and there were flecks of its flesh on his lower lip. He looked up at me from under thick, dark lashes. “It cries passion to me.”

My breath stilled in my chest. I’d have been scared by the fierce concentration in his gaze if I didn’t know all this couldn’t be real. “That’s not what I want. Not now.”

Matteo laughed as if we both knew I was talking complete crap. Other people had laughed at me in the past, but their laughter was full of scorn and dismissal. Matteo’s was…happy. Fond. After a moment, I smiled, too.

He snagged another orange and settled his back against the wall. He drew his legs up against his chest, well-developed muscles straining against the material of his pants, one hand resting on his knees. “But for now, you must also finish what you’ve started. All these paintings…” With the hand holding the orange, he gestured toward the stacked canvases. “You must decide on the good ones and make them better. Then sell them so you have enough money.”

I shook my head, astonished at his boldness. “You know nothing about it. They’re all crap, there’s nothing new there.” Or so my agent had said, both to my face and then in correspondence, because he was a coward. I wasn’t an idiot, I knew my bad temper had increased over the last few years. I’d scared the shit out of him more than once and also alienated most of the gallery owners in town. Even hardened art journalists thought twice about approaching me nowadays. What did I have to offer anymore? I was at the end of the road on so many levels. I’d never have admitted my failures to Ailsa, but here I was, baring my rather soiled soul to this weird, misguided young man.

Matteo laughed. Such a relaxed, untroubled sound. “But I’m here now.” He leaned his head back and planted his bare feet firmly on the floor, wriggling once more to get comfortable. “So now you must tell me about yourself, Gavin McGrath.” When I opened my mouth to protest again, he shook his head, his young, soft eyes a little grave. “While you paint, of course.”

It was nonsense. Didn’t I say so? All of it. It couldn’t be happening and it shouldn’t be tolerated. But I got up from my chair and picked up the palette. Matteo nodded at me, encouragingly. I stood at the easel and concentrated on the top section of the canvas. The red paint had bubbled there; the light in the studio caught the top of each bump, reflecting and refracting, blending the dips and shadows. I could see the opportunity there to paint the emergence of a life, bubbling into existence, raw and innocent and clean. My vision was much clearer than usual and the pain in my chest had eased. For one brief, shocked moment, I thought I caught the scent of the orange, hanging in the air of the studio, tart and sweet. And as I painted, I started to tell Matteo about myself.

Several hours later, he stopped murmuring replies to me. I no longer heard the creak of the floorboards behind me as he shifted to get comfortable. Was he asleep? I wiped a bead of sweat from my chin, but for some reason I was wary of turning around to look.


There was a slight whisper—it might have been a draft under the door out of the studio. I tried for a careless, cynical tone.

“You never said who your artist friend is.”

He sighed, then. “Concentrate on your work, Gavin. It’s not important. And maybe you won’t have heard of him? He uses the name of his town, where he lived and his parents died. It was before he came to Rome. He goes by the name of Caravaggio.”

And when I whirled around, Matteo had gone. I never heard the door either open or close behind him...


Clare London
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-628-4 (Electronic)
Amber Quill Press - Amber Allure


Since the day they met, Owen’s restraint has been an exciting foil to Caleb’s unruly lack of discipline. Now established lovers, they can’t deny how welcome that balance is in their lives. Two very different men, both strong-willed - it shouldn’t work between them, but it does! Owen’s steady world is rocked by Caleb’s boldness, and Caleb finds a haven in return. Now they share their lives, a strong need for each other and a highly developed love of play.

On this weary night at the end of a working week, they’re caught in traffic on opposite sides of town. They’ll have to wait to meet up until the journey’s over, to enjoy the evening together. Or will they? Caleb decides he won’t wait to play, and he’ll play as dirty as he dares – or as much as they can handle over the phone!


Caleb watched other vehicle headlamps arc across the side window of his car, then swoop away in the opposite direction. He relaxed a little in his seat and lifted one hand off the steering wheel.

“Caleb?” On the other end of the phone, Owen’s voice had that sharp edge again, sending welcome goose bumps down Caleb’s flesh. “What do you mean by that?”

“Didn’t I say? I don’t like waiting. I’m horny now.”

Owen made the tutting sound that Caleb also knew well. “So surprise me. Not. But there’s nothing we can do about it. I’m sitting in a cold, damp train carriage and you’re trapped in traffic.” He went silent for a moment, then when Caleb didn’t reply, he snapped again, “Caleb?”

Caleb sighed happily. In complete contrast to his lover, he felt increasingly relaxed. The car heater was on and the windows were slightly steamed. He was protected from the foul weather outside, also the noise and hassle of city life. Work had been tedious this week, but now it was over for another couple of days. Okay, so Owen was still miles away, but Caleb had an intriguing alternative. His guy’s voice was pitched at just the right level, irritated yet curious, too. Just at that cusp between fury and fascination.
Could go either way, Caleb knew that from experience. That was what made the game all the more delicious. He felt … yeah. Provocative.

“Yes, Owen?”

“Don’t,” came Owen’s voice. He sounded apprehensive.

“Don’t what?” Caleb smiled broadly. He liked apprehension in a man, too. It certainly had its place in foreplay. “Like you say, there’s nothing we can do about it. Not we, anyway.”

Owen made a soft, strangled noise.

Caleb leaned around the steering column to be nearer the phone, dropping his voice to an almost-whisper. “I can always entertain myself. Not as good as lying spread out and naked on the lounge carpet, my breath heaving, my knees drawn up to my belly and your slicked fingers sliding in and out of me.” He sighed, rather theatrically. “But a guy’s got to make the best of a situation.”

“Dear God.”

Caleb didn’t really want to be distracted by the strained tone of Owen’s voice. All he wanted to concentrate on was how deep it was; how rich. That voice. His pants seemed to be getting tighter by the second. Owen’s protests – though Caleb couldn’t recall any of them ever being significant - did that to him every time. He rubbed his free hand gently over his lap, caressing the bulge there.

“I’m very hot tonight,” he murmured. “Very thick.”

Owen cursed under his breath, but Caleb caught most of the words. Owen had an impressively imaginative vocabulary when he chose to swear. Sounded like he touched on plenty of things that were currently coloring Caleb’s own imagination.

“Dammit, Caleb, you’re in the car. Have you pulled over?”

Caleb let out a slow, heavy breath, making sure the phone would pick up the noise.

“Yeah. And I’ve pulled out. Didn’t you hear my zipper?”

Owen’s breath made a sharp, gasping sound.

Caleb slipped his hand inside his open fly and ran possessive fingers along the length of his cock, swelling inside his briefs. “I’m hot. Way too hot. Lucky I wore the thin, white shirt today. You know the one? It’s loose. I can reach up under it and…soothe myself.” He impatiently flipped open the lower buttons on his shirt and slid his other hand up his chest to his nipple. It was pebbled already, and not from the cold weather outside. He pinched it between his finger and thumb and rolled it, hard. Made him wince, but in that good kind of way. “Ouch.”

“What are you doing?”

Caleb grinned. “I’m just touching.”


“Uh-huh.” He heard Owen’s hesitation; heard the catch in his breath when surrender started to win over self possession. That exact moment was as sweet as any pie they’d ever shared since that first night.

“What are you…?”

“Touching?” Caleb didn’t expect an answer, not if Owen was still in a public place. "Myself. My skin. My belly. My chest. I can feel my heart beating against my palm. It’s kinda fast.”

“You said…”

“Ouch. Yeah. Pinched too hard.” Caleb arched his body, only his shoulders touching the back of the seat. “My nipples are sore with it, guess I’m a bit rough. And maybe I’m wishing it was your hand, instead of my own. But it’s going to be fun, to get these pierced. Like I suggested, you remember? We can both play with them.”

Owen groaned; the sound carried well over the phone line. Caleb shivered with delight and ran his hand back down to his belly. He spread out his fingers and felt his way over the clenched muscles. Slowly, he slid his fingertips in under the waistband of his briefs.

“What’s happening?” Owen’s voice was low. “Caleb?”

Caleb frowned. “You can find out when you get home. Not long to wait, I thought you said.”

Owen growled. “Hmm. Maybe I’m the same as you, after all.”

The growl had been enough for Caleb’s whole body to tense up. Owen’s frustrated tone was just that extra frosting on top. “Yeah? I don’t think that’d be much fun.”

Owen tutted. “You know what I mean. Impatient. I can be impatient, too.”


“Stop saying…” Owen cut off the words with a grunt. Caleb imagined his lover’s expression. Angry with his situation, aroused despite it. His pupils starting to dilate, his fists clenched.

Oh, but the game was sweet, too!

“I guess you are the same in some ways.” Caleb reached down inside the cotton fabric to stroke his growing erection. He lowered his voice, too. “You don’t hold back, do you, Owen? At least, not now, not with me. I’d like to watch that, in person. The expression on your face; the clench of your muscles. I wish you were here.”

“Look, I know, so do I—”

“Right now. To see me. To stroke me.”

Owen groaned again. “I don’t think this is fair. I don’t see how I can…”

“Ah, but you can.”

“I can…what? Caleb, for God’s sake…”

“Surprise me,” Caleb whispered.


Clare London
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-574-4 (Electronic)
Amber Quill Press - Amber Allure

Dylan hasn’t told his eccentric Aunts to stop matchmaking him with girls—or that he’s already having a secret affair with Neal, his nearby neighbor. Maybe it’s time for Dylan to confess, and to decide what kind of life he really wants with the man he loves.

Dylan admits it himself, he's a relentlessly single man in a small town, consoled only by being a good teacher and a devoted nephew to his Great-Aunts.

When the Aunts take a hand in matchmaking him with Josie, the girl down the street, Dylan doesn't tell them what kind of soulmate he's really looking for—and the fact that he's already found the man in question, Josie's brother Neal. But a secret affair can't go on forever, can it?

Faced with a heart-wrenching decision when his chance at love seems to be moving even farther out of his reach, Dylan knows it's time for him to own up to what he wants...and what kind of man he really is...


Have a wonderful weekend. I'll be back next week with Selena Illyria. Until then...

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell

Wednesday, April 21, 2010


is a God-given talent Clare London uses to the utmost in her compelling, well plotted novels. Below are two of her books available from Dreamspinner Press which may be purchased either in e-book or paperback. I think you'll enjoy them. :)

Clare London
Dreamspinner Press


Nic Gerrard is this year's brightest young entrepreneur, charming and charismatic, with time for everyone. Aidan West is his cleverest programmer, fiercely committed to his work and with little time for friendship or socializing. Together they created the successful dating agency, Sparks, with a new and refreshing approach to matching people.

A year later, their lives are very different – Nic has all the trappings of success and as much company as he wants; Aidan is solitary and disapproving of such a lifestyle. When Nic decides to update the agency's unique matching program, he and Aidan must work together again. Getting along gets harder as they deal with a malicious hacker and face a crisis at the agency. It will take both of them to make the agency work, and somehow they have to find a way to put their differences aside. Nic and Aidan have secrets to keep, and whether they'll admit it or not, they each need something – or someone – to help Sparks fly.

Aidan stood outside the bar as Nic came striding out after him. Nic looked relieved that Aidan was still there, but his expression turned to shock at Aidan’s next words.

“You kiss strangers in bars a lot? Or let them kiss you?”

Nic almost laughed aloud, this scene was farcical! “He’s not a stranger. He’s an acquaintance. Was an acquaintance.” Don’t be such an asshole, Aidan, he thought to himself.

“More than an acquaintance, I think. A friend?”

Nic stared at Aidan. What the fuck was going on? Why was Aidan nagging away at this? “Okay, he was more than an acquaintance, if you want to know. But less than a friend.”

“How do you measure that?”

“What – you want to write a program for it?” Nic couldn’t believe the tone of his voice, the bickering in it, the hostility. But he couldn’t hold himself back. He could feel his anger rising in the face of Aidan’s aggression.

“No, just interested.”

“I knew him closely for a month or so.”

“So … an acquaintance might be known – let’s say – for a week, a friend for much longer. People like that kid come somewhere in between. So let’s look at the other parameters. At what stage does the kiss come in? And how many weeks for a quick fuck? I assume that’s what he was?”

Nic was shocked at the crude language from Aidan. He didn’t think he’d ever heard him swear much, and somehow it didn’t sit comfortably with him. He was amazed that his companion was disturbed enough to use it. The sidewalk was quiet outside the bar, there were very few people around at this time of the morning, and luckily none of them seemed interested in a sudden altercation between two young men. But Nic was damned angry, as well. What had happened to the comfortable mood of just a short while ago?

“Jesus, Aidan, you are so damned offensive! How dare you talk to me like that?”

Aidan felt something harden inside of him; a sharp spike of pain in his gut. “It’s an unforgivable abuse of people, Nic. You’re in the spotlight, it’s only natural that they come to you, but then you use them –”

“What? What sort of guy do you think I am?”

“Am I wrong?” Aidan’s face was flushed. He felt the pain again, and it was all mixed up with the anger. The destructive, white-hot anger that he knew would consume him; that would leave him panting and alone, and plunge him back into the maelstrom of his miserable, broken nights. “When they come fawning over you? Do you send them home before or after you’ve had your fun?”

“If it’s offered, why not?” Nic snapped back. “They’re adults – they can make their own decisions, can’t they?” And that’s not what he meant to say, because it wasn’t strictly true, he did care about the people he came into contact with, but, boy, did he hate people who made him lose his temper!

And Aidan was relentless. “That's your philosophy in life, is it? Take anything and everything that comes your way?”

“Is this because you have a problem with me and guys? How dare you!”

“No – not that –” Aidan’s anger faltered for a second, but his words continued to spill out. He was sickeningly fearful of going too far – but he couldn’t stop himself. “I don’t care who you fuck. It’s your promiscuity that’s so disgusting.”

Nic gasped. He couldn’t believe the bolt of pain that shot through him. “Who the fuck do you think you are, saying that? What if I am promiscuous? At least I’m connecting with people, not always hiding away behind a damned screen, judging things you have no real fucking knowledge of!”

Aidan’s eyes flashed in anger. Nic couldn’t help himself, either, or his reaction to this man; he saw the gold glints inside the deep brown irises, and he felt a rush of fury to his brain, of desire to his groin – he’d never known such conflict inside himself. Aidan’s sharp voice cut through all of it, harsh and low. “Connecting? That’s what you call it? Fucking everything in sight?”

“Don’t knock it 'til you’ve tried it!”

Aidan drew a deep breath, but it didn’t calm him at all. “So you say I should try it?”

“Maybe you should, then you wouldn’t be so fucking holier than thou.”

Nic’s next words were lost as his breath was crushed under Aidan’s hands, hands that pressed hard on his chest, pushing him back against the wall. He was shocked at Aidan’s strength – the muscles he’d guessed at under the shirt were tight and perfectly controlled. Aidan bent his arm across Nic’s chest, forcing him back against the cold brick, and the other hand gripped his chin.

And then he kissed him.

It wasn’t just a kiss – it was like a declaration of war! Nic didn’t know how someone could kiss so passionately and yet so damned aggressively! He was paralyzed, and for that moment, totally submissive. The whole smell, the whole feel of Aidan was suddenly swamping him, his face pressed against Nic’s, the mouth moist and sweet but hard at the same time, his tongue forcing through Nic’s shocked lips, to probe at his own, to run fiercely around inside his mouth, seeking out the corners, the curves, the taste. Aidan’s hand moved from his chin and gripped him by the shoulder, hard. The other hand released the hold on Nic’s chest and thrust behind his neck, tangling into his hair, tugging Nic’s head forward into Aidan’s embrace.

Nic could do nothing but respond. Fuck, he wanted to do nothing but respond. He’d never had a kiss like it, from man or woman! Almost shamefully, he felt his erection pressing hard against his leg, and knew that Aidan would feel it too. He felt an answering pressure from the other man’s thighs, but before he could find out if Aidan was as aroused as he was, the invading mouth wrenched away.

“Jesus…” gasped Nic. The movement of his fingers to his lips was completely unconscious. He thanked God he was still propped against the wall, doubting his legs would hold him up otherwise. His cock was swelling and aching beyond belief, straining against the front of his pants.

Aidan’s gaze darted down to Nic’s groin then back up to his face. “You want to fuck me?” he hissed. His lips were swelled with the kiss, his eyes bright like ice in sunlight. Like a reflection in a sharpened knife, Nic thought, his mind still reeling. Aidan stepped back, away from Nic, swaying slightly.

Nic’s voice wouldn’t work, though he knew that his body screamed its own answer. Aidan never gave him any chance to reply, anyway.

“You do, don’t you? Well, why wouldn’t you? I’m just another employee to you, another body, another consumable! But you can just get over it. Because – unlike all those other bodies – I don’t want to fuck you!”

Aidan was very pale and shaking, as if he wasn’t quite sure of his control – Nic could see a tremor in the pulse at his throat. He turned around abruptly and started to walk away. Nic watched him in complete, stunned amazement; the straight back, the finely shaped legs, the most perfect ass he’d ever seen … and the fists, clenched so tightly at Aidan’s sides that the knuckles were white.

Nic stood slumped against the wall, gulping in the early morning air like a drowning man and trying to calm his racing heartbeat.

And what the hell had all that meant?

Clare London
Dreamspinner Press


Maen is a Gold Warrior, defender of Aza City, a world controlled by the Queen and her womankind where the best of men are maintained for the military and the women's pleasure. A favorite of his imperious Mistress and a leader among his men, Maen is too cautious to seek casual sexual satisfaction and so stays alone, taking his comfort in ensuring a stable and controlled world. That world is thrown into disarray by Dax, a bold and challenging new Bronze soldier who excites Maen with his fierce hero worship and leads them to a forbidden affair. They find themselves thrown together in a dangerous and hostile environment without the support of the City and far away from their loyalties, and Maen finds himself risking everything for Dax – his position; his loyalties; and eventually, his life.

“Touch me!” Dax hissed, urgently. His chest heaved in great, shuddering breaths, and his mouth pressed on mine again. His hands slid around my waist, scrabbling under my vest to feel my skin against his. His fingers were like firebrands: he broke from me, gasping, as if he felt the heat, too. “Touch me - and then I can touch you! How long have I waited for you to see me like this? I’ve admired you since I first saw you; since I was so scared of you, so feared of your displeasure. I never thought I’d be worthy of you, but I’ve listened to every word you said - I’ve tried to be a fine Bronzeman.”

“You have! You are,” I gasped. “But this is wrong -”

“I can’t have mistaken it all!” he cried. He grabbed at my hand and pressed it to his chest. His heart was hammering even more loudly than my own. “The look in your eyes, sometimes, when we talked like companions, not soldiers - did I imagine it? I begged for it. These feelings have always been in me, whenever you were with me… it’s been a torment, since the day I joined the Household. At first, I didn’t dare hope you had the same respect for me, but I sought you out regardless - wanted to be near you. Maen, I wanted to be a Silver Captain - so very much! To do you honour, but also so that I could have you, like they all use each other. So that I could feel you take me, your body covering mine, your hands on my ass, your cock inside me - if you so wanted -”

If I so wanted? I felt that my body was alight with desire; that if I didn’t crouch between his legs and slide my fingers up into him right now, I’d expire from the frustration. It took only that second - only that first, hungry kiss - to know that I’d wanted nothing but that, since the day I saw him.

“I’d have put up with their pawing,” he ground out. “All of them - women and men. They want me, I know. I can smell it on them when I pass, do you think I don’t notice? And it’s all the same to me - it’s nothing much to want, or to hate. But to have you - ! I’d do anything. I heard the Silvers at night, and that’s what I wanted with you. I knew that to be more true than anything else in my life.”

“But you’re still a Bronzeman, not yet a Silver,” I protested. “It’s the most hideous crime…”

He ignored me, and couldn’t I admire that youthful arrogance? His mouth sucked at my neck: his fingers pinched at a nipple, up under my thin vest. And when his hand cupped the front of my trousers and squeezed my agony there, I heard him suck in his breath.

“You mean you can’t touch me like this. You can’t have me.”

“No,” I groaned. “You’re not for me. You’re only for the Ladies - for the Mistress. You could satisfy yourself in the Household, with them. You’ve no need of anything, Dax - no need of anyone else.”

“I don’t want them,” he hissed, holding me tight in his palm, pumping at me. To my shame and my increasing delight, I leaned into him eagerly, bucking my hips, straining for his touch. My hands grasped at his buttocks, feeling the muscles clench under the thin fabric of his trousers. “I don’t want the Ladies,” he muttered, “with their soft, urgent bodies, and their begging for my seed, not in the way that I want you!”

It was too much - I couldn’t think straight. I despised the way that my body no longer followed my commands, and yet I felt inflamed with the thrill of him; the desire for him. I was becoming a man that I barely recognized! My fingers were at his hips, and he was fumbling at his trousers opening, trying to wriggle the cloth away from his skin so that I could touch more of him. He was panting, softly. “Is this all my imagination, Maen? Am I the only one who wants this? Are you angry with me? It’s commonplace in the barracks - I know what men do, even you, I’m sure -”

“Don’t be stupid, Dax!” I spoke harshly, because it seemed I had no control over my voice, either. “You’ve never had a man - it’s not an easy thing -“

“Do you want me?” he said, bluntly, his voice urgent and thick with desire. “Because I want you - I want to couple with you. I never wanted anyone before, not like this. I want your mouth on my cock and your hands caressing me. I want to wrap my legs around you and feel you push into me, possessing me. I want to give you pleasure, Maen: I want you inside me. I want everything! I’m not going to be very experienced, of course, but I know I can learn - I can make it good for you -”

I groaned aloud. “That’s not what I meant.” Foolish man! As if it had ever been my concern, for coupling to be good for me! My heart ached that he should care for that. “You’re talking nonsense, Dax - it’s the fear of this time; the strangeness of our situation. We can forget this, now, then perhaps when you’re Silver, we can think again -”

“No!” he snapped. “It was bad enough in my Training, taking those Devotions, allowing the Ladies to Call and use me when they wished. Don’t you see what the Bronzemen become, Maen? They’re breeding animals, that’s all, until they’re older and more manly, and then they’re pumped full of the Devotions until they become dullards - muscle-bound, fodder for the battles of the City. I don’t want to wait for you until my brain is dull and my body’s a tool for others - I never did! All right, I never thought I’d have any other choice, but we’ve escaped that, now. And don’t tell me you can’t feel the difference in you, here at the Place. I want to share this time with you - this bright spark of my flame, before it’s caught in duty and death and snuffed out - ”

He shifted suddenly, pressing himself back against me and trapping my leg between his. His own arousal was very fierce and very hard, dragged halfway out of his clothing, the heat of his flesh pressing insistently on mine, and making me gasp.

“I want you here, Maen. As we are now - as the men we are now.”


See you all tomorrow when we gaze into the crystal ball. Until then...

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell

Tuesday, April 20, 2010


Today we feature my favorite book by Clare London. An outstanding story, FREEMAN grabs you from the beginning and holds your interest and heart all the way.

Clare London
MLR Press
ISBN 978-1-60820-004-7 print
978-1-60820-005-4 ebook


Freeman's return to the city is quiet, without fuss -- the way he likes things. But, he's missed by more people than he thought: his ex-wife, his ex-lover, and his ex-business partner. One wants friendship, another one intimacy. The third just wants him the hell gone again.

Freeman -- private, controlled -- hasn't time or appetite for trouble. But, when he strikes up an unusual, ill-advised friendship with young, lively, amoral Kit, it seems trouble comes looking for both men, ready to expose secrets that can destroy the fragile trust they've built. Freeman's more ready for the challenge than anyone realizes when the choice comes down to peace or Kit's life.

I listened carefully for any undertone in his words, knowing I’d get no more explanation if I pushed him now. He sounded honest; he sounded bitter. Whoever and whatever other people might think he was, Kit himself thought he was no-one special. I lifted my hand off his and stepped back. Reluctance tugged at me like something sticky. I looked over to my coat, hanging on the back of the couch.

“You’re going out?” Kit followed my gaze and frowned. Maybe he was still nervous; maybe suspicious of me.

I nodded. “I’ve got work to do today.”

He let out a short breath, like he’d been holding it. He looked restless again. “I thought… you might be… you know. Going back there.”

“Work,” I repeated, calmly. “Just work.”

Kit smiled, brightly. “I’ll come with you. Help you out with…” For a second he looked sheepish. “…your work. Whatever.”

“No, you won’t,” I said. “You need to rest. I’ll give you my mobile number and you’ll be safe enough here until I get back.” I regretted using the word ‘safe’ even as it escaped my mouth – and the implication that he might not be - but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I can stay?”

“Yes, of course.” The pleasure in his face lit up his eyes and broadened his smile. I walked over to the couch and pulled on my coat.

“Freeman?” I turned back to face him. He’d moved behind a chair, as if he needed distance between us. Protection. “The sex business… you know? The parties. With George. It’s over.”


He bit his lip as I’d so often seen him do. “After… well, last time you were in the club. After that party, I told him I didn’t want it anymore. Didn’t want him fucking me.” He rushed on, maybe afraid that I’d say something provocative about George. “He didn’t seem bothered, actually. Just sent me off to work as usual.” He shook his head gently: a different kind of confusion. “Don't know why he didn't ask me to return the keys to my room right then. But he let me stay on, regardless."

I let out my breath, quietly. I was imagining his conversation with George, delivering his terms. His simple, bold bravery.

“I want to clean up my act, Freeman.” He sounded belligerent but his eyes pleaded with me to understand. “Want to start again.”

I nodded. “That’s good. Good for you.”

He moved out from behind the chair and started to close the distance between us again.

“Not doing it just for me. I’m doing it for you, too.”

For me?

“Freeman, I don’t just want to be here, I want to be here with you.”
I think I was shaking my head, though I wasn’t moving out of his path. “It’s your decision what you do with your life, Kit.”

He laughed, still walking across the room, only a couple of feet from the couch by now. His slim body swayed with easy, graceful movements. “Yeah, seems like that’s your style. Don’t tell a person what to do, but when you don't approve, your face looks like you swallowed a wasp and won’t tell anyone it stings like fuck.”
I laughed aloud, then.

He seemed pleased. “That’s true, right?”

“Yes, maybe,” I agreed.

“I know it’s my life, my decision.” We were laughing together as he came close enough to put an arm out to me. “Hell, if I wanted to, I could fuck a different man every one of the twelve days of Christmas, right?” I was still laughing when he slipped both arms back around my waist and pressed his belly against mine. He looked up into my face. “But none of them would be you, Freeman. I want you.”

I was silent – the laughter dried in my throat. I looked down into his face and all I could see were those dark, wide eyes. His expression was an equal mix of terror and determination. He looked like the fragile Kit I’d seen in the club on the first night I met him – like the aggressive Kit who’d argue with me whenever he felt like it – like the surprisingly mature Kit who’d grin at me without prompt and talk to me without pretension or suspicion. They were all there, challenging me. I could hear his soft panting breath – I could smell him, smell the body wash from his shower and the freshness of my clean linen and every small, warm, human, bodily pulse that I’d come to recognize from him.

He lifted his chin with both defiance and nervousness. “I don’t know how to get you, Freeman. Don’t laugh at me. Don’t get mad. I think you want me too, but you won’t make a move. I just don’t know what to do.” He flushed, and then before I could answer him, he leant up and forwards, and with a slow, hushed inevitability he kissed me.

My heart may not have stopped physiologically but it did emotionally. I felt the pressure of the soft, damp lips and the bold, hot tongue licking at mine. I opened my mouth because I was startled, and his tongue slipped in greedily to explore me. No – I was lying to myself, the worst sin of all. I opened my mouth because I wanted him, inside me. I wanted to taste him – to plunder him – to explore him, too. My hands darted up to grasp his shoulders – to push him away – but somehow they lost their way and became entangled in the hair at the back of his neck. It slipped through my fingers but I got enough of a hold to tug his head nearer, to tilt him so that we fit better together. It didn’t take much. I felt as if we breathed the same breath, shared the same gasp.
“Freeman…” His murmur was in my ear, his delighted laugh like a caress. “Fuck, you taste good.”

We kissed some more, because now it truly was a mutual pleasure. I pressed his head back as I leaned in to him, ran my fingers along the line of his jaw, watched the convulsive jerk of his throat as he swallowed. His eyes were half-closed and so he didn’t see me as I gazed at his face, following each line, each stretched muscle, each flickering eyelid. I kissed the sides of his mouth; I kissed the rich, full softness of the middle; I kissed the skin of his cheek, just below his ear. He tasted just as I’d imagined he would – cool and hot; sweet and piquant. Remarkable. He kissed me back, hot and eager and clumsy, his fingers stroking the tendons in my neck, his lips sucking at mine. I could feel his heartbeat speeding up, thudding against my torso. He made soft, gasping noises as his mouth moved against mine.

We broke for air, long before I had any trouble breathing but long after we could have called it a momentary distraction and laughed it off. Kit’s eyes were gleaming. I saw his chest heaving underneath his thin shirt. His fingers played with the hem as if he were getting ready to peel it off. “Wow,” he whispered.

“Kit,” I murmured. His name sounded different to me, somehow.

“Wow,” he repeated, and laughed shakily. “Shit. It’s so different. You. This. I wanted to do it – but it’s not what I thought.” I frowned and he flushed. “No, Freeman, I mean it’s good! So very, very good. Better. But it’s like an ache… inside. Hurts me.” He laughed again, his hand against his chest, his voice shaky and self-conscious. He looked like he was searching for something more articulate, but whatever he said, I already understood.

“I won’t hurt you,” I said. My voice sounded different, too. Hoarser… richer.

“I know you won’t,” he replied quickly, grinning. He was shivering again, but he seemed pleased about it. He started to pull up his shirt, like before.

“No,” I said, gently. I slid my hands down from his shoulders and grasped his wrists. “No, Kit.”


Be sure to join us tomorrow for with our last bit on the amazing Clare London. Until then...

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell

Monday, April 19, 2010


This week we feature multi-published Clare London, an awesome writer you'll want to read over and over again.

Clare's forte is M/M. Here's her bio which explains why:

Clare took the pen name London from the city where she lives, loves, and writes. A lone, brave female in a frenetic, testosterone-fueled family home, she juggles her writing with the weekly wash and waiting for the far distant day when she can afford to give up her day job as an accountant. She’s written in many genres and across many settings, with novels and short stories published both online and in print. She says she likes variety in her writing while friends say she’s just fickle, but as long as both theories spawn good fiction, she’s happy. Most of her work features male/male romance and drama with a healthy serving of physical passion, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic and sexy characters.

Clare currently has several novels sulking at that tricky chapter 3 stage and plenty of other projects in mind . . . she just has to find out where she left them in her frenetic, all-male family home.

All the details and free fiction are available at her website. Visit her today and say hello! For more info on Clare and other talented authors, check out her blog.

Clare's work has won many awards with the most recent being from Love Romances Cafe for Best GLBT Author and Best Contemporary Book: True Colors.

Also The Rainbow Awards on Elisa Rolle's blog, TRUE COLORS was nominated as one of the Jury's Choice. It didn't win, but it's a lovely button. :)

Now it's time to show you what all the praise is about.

Clare London
Dreamspinner Press


From the very first, Zeke Roswell and Miles Winter are like oil and water. After a tragic fire claimed his brother's life, Zeke's personal and professional life spiraled out of control, and now he has no choice but to sell his gallery to cover his debts. Enter successful entrepreneur Miles, who buys it and plans to make a commercial success out of Zeke's failure.

Their initial hostility stands no chance against the strong passion that ambushes them. Zeke's talent and lust for life intoxicate Miles, and Zeke finds Miles's self-assurance and determination equally fascinating. But it's not until an unsolved mystery of violence and stolen sketches threatens to sabotage any chance at happiness that Miles and Zeke realize they have a chance at all.

Miles didn’t know what made him start on up the stairs without calling or knocking.
When he reached the top, he looked across the landing, searching for Zeke. The door to the studio was wide open and he could see inside. There was a table set up in there now, and a couple of display stands, though there were no pictures or plans in view. The overhead light was off, and the only light in the room was from a thick church candle, anchored on a china plate and balanced rather precariously on the edge of the table. There were two coffee mugs there as well, and another empty plate.

Miles took a tentative step forward and peered further in. Over by the window, he saw Zeke with his back to him, one arm braced against the wall, facing out toward the city view. His body was silhouetted against the darkening sky outside by the single, flickering flame of the candle. His hair was tied back this evening, a short but vivid trail of dark curls against a white T-shirt that was too short, as usual; it rode up around his midriff. He wore those damned sweat shorts, though probably another pair, but the same style. Miles stared at the gap of fresh skin between shirt and shorts; followed the lines of muscles down the back of Zeke’s thighs; gazed at the slight glimmer of sweat in the hollow behind his knees, as it caught what little light there was.
His heartbeat stuttered and re-settled to its regular rhythm.

Almost immediately afterward, he noticed the other pair of legs. Another person stood in front of Zeke, largely hidden by him. The four limbs were closely pressed together and there was the shadow of fingertips at Zeke’s waist. Miles realized the other person must be extremely close, because he couldn’t see a separate face, couldn’t see easily which arm might be which.

With a wash of cold shock, he also realized how stupid he was, for the pair of them were obviously kissing. Zeke’s head dipped against the girl’s and her other hand gripped softly behind his neck, tangling into his hair, tugging him further against her. Miles saw the muscles of Zeke’s shoulders tensing as he pressed her body up against the wall more tightly, pushing his chest against her, his mouth so obviously working on hers.
Miles heard a soft gasp; a moan swallowed by another eager mouth.

Zeke’s free arm was hugged in front of his body, the hand hidden from view. The girl’s legs were parted against his hips. Miles imagined him flipping open the button of her jeans; he had visions of Zeke sliding his long, supple fingers down into her clothes; of touching her curls; of stroking parts that were hot and sweaty, and sensitive to every finger’s touch….

His shock became even colder as he watched the hand on Zeke’s waist slip down to his ass, and squeeze him confidently through the sweat fabric. Miles saw the muscles of Zeke’s shoulders shiver with pleasure, and his back arch under the touch. But there was something about the darkly tanned skin of the companion’s bare arm, seen clearly for the first time—something that jarred. There were strong tendons stretching to grasp at Zeke’s body, and soft hairs glinting in the evening glow.

It was a masculine hand; a young man’s hand. Miles had assumed it was a girl, but it was male.

He knew he had to leave. He had invaded Zeke’s privacy. Carter had tried to tell him Zeke was busy; he just hadn’t realized with what. He felt sick, and wondered briefly why a genuine error should make him feel so unstable. He wasn’t aware of making any noise as he turned to go back downstairs, but out of the corner of his eye he saw the figures straighten up and turn in his direction.

“Miles?” It was Zeke’s voice. Miles cursed every God he’d ever read about, and paused, his hand on the doorframe.

“Hold up, Miles. We’re just finished here, you know? Marco’s just going. Aren’t you, man?”

Miles stood, transfixed, staring at somewhere between the stairwell and the floor, as he heard the disgruntled mumbles from Zeke’s companion, and Zeke’s own careless laugh. “Not now, Marc baby. Yeah, I know. But first it was Carter calling, and now it’s my boss. I don’t have the time tonight. I’ll call you. Come on, man….”

Some rustling clothes; Miles heard a zipper being wrenched up. There was a jolt to his elbow, and a young, dark-haired man pushed past him, none too gently. Miles had the brief impression of a scowling, Mediterranean-cast face, and a body that obviously worked out; then Marco was gone, lumbering down the stairs in a rather unattractive sulk.

“Christ, don’t you ever knock?” growled Zeke. He came to stand next to Miles with a wry smile on his face. His cheeks were flushed; his lips plump and moist. “Guess that was useful for me, though. He’s a little too clingy for my liking.”

“I interrupted you… both. I’m sorry. I thought with Carter gone, you were free.”

“You met Carter?” Zeke looked at Miles with interest. “Good. I told him some stuff about you. Probably best he sees you for real, or I may be blackening your name needlessly, eh?” He laughed, easily enough.

Miles leaned a little away from him. He hated him, briefly, suddenly, and had never known such a reaction in himself. How could Zeke be so cool after such embarrassment? How could he just abandon the sensual anticipation of that make-out session, and dismiss his lover so swiftly? How could he chat so calmly to Miles about other people entirely; how could he laugh as if nothing had happened there? Miles wished he could wipe his own embarrassment from his mind—the strange, churning feelings inside his stomach that he was sure were showing on his face. He’d never known such discomfort.

Nor had he ever felt such desire. A desire that wracked his gut, demanding that he be where that young man had been, just moments before: wrapped around Zeke Roswell, with Zeke’s tongue in his mouth, and Zeke’s hand down the front of his pants.


Clare London
Amber Quill Press-Amber Allure
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-574-4
Gay / Contemporary / Romantic Comedy


Dylan admits it himself, he's a relentlessly single man in a small town, consoled only by being a good teacher and a devoted nephew to his Great-Aunts.

When the Aunts take a hand in matchmaking him with Josie, the girl along the street, Dylan doesn't tell them what kind of soul-mate he's really looking for - and the fact that he's already found the man in question, Josie's brother Neal. But a secret affair can't go on for ever, can it? Finally faced with a heart-wrenching decision, when his chance at love seems to be moving even farther out of his reach, maybe it's time for Dylan to own up to what he wants – and what kind of man he really is.

The door opened abruptly. For a few seconds, I just stared. My heart was hammering, fierce as anything. But the smile that greeted me was broad and mischievous and full of a welcoming love for life. It was also very familiar. Dark, strong features. With a mental nod to the Aunts, I stepped inside. My sight began to adjust to the change, the hallway furniture throwing elongated shadows across the pale, waning sunlight, and then the front door slammed behind me as if cutting me off from the life outside…
And I was plunged into another one.

I never had a chance to speak. The bouquet was snatched from my hands and flung onto the low table by the door. I was pushed back against the wall and a hard, flat chest pressed against mine, hot breath panting in my ear, broad hands reaching to push my jacket off my shoulders. Strong hands. Impatient.

“Fuck.” The voice was harsh and masculine. A man’s face brushed against mine, the jawline rough with a half-day’s stubble, the eyes gazing hungrily at me. “You’re early! I thought we said tomorrow.”

I laughed aloud, partly from protest, partly from the sheer joy of the touch. He was a few inches taller than I was, his body stocky, his shoulders broad. As he opened his arms to wrap them around me, the faded fabric of his shirt stretched tight across his chest, accentuating the sinewy planes of his torso.
“The Aunts insisted I come over today. I didn’t know when you were planning to arrive. If you were. Look, I can go…”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” he snapped, but his eyes were dancing with pleasure, not anger. The hallway smelled of furniture polish and the lingering aroma of warm toast. Up close, I could also smell strong coffee on his breath, but then he always drank too much of it, a symptom of his commitment to ridiculously long hours of writing and traveling. His face nuzzled into my neck, his skin warm, his thick curls uncombed and brushing his shoulders, just the way I liked it. I ran my fingers into it, tangling tightly, tugging back his head. Hard, just the way he liked it.

“Neal.” I groaned. His neck was taut, the Adam’s apple flexing as he swallowed. My lips tingled with the need to kiss it—to kiss him. “Thank God you’re here.”

He shook himself free of my grip, though I’d never intended it to hold him back. “Idiot. Of course I’m here.” He laughed raggedly, perhaps still impatient with me. He was panting slightly and couldn’t seem to keep his hands off me, grabbing, stroking, tugging at the soft fabric of my single decent shirt. A button slipped open and his fingers slid in against my bare skin, catching one of the swollen nubs of my nipples underneath and twisting it. It was painful—it was impossibly exciting. “Every damned month, right?” His voice was low and hoarse, even though we couldn’t be overheard. “If it’s humanly possible—wherever the hell I am—I’ll get here. I don’t want to miss it. Miss this. You know I don’t.”

That wasn’t entirely true. I hoped and I prayed—but I never really knew. And, God help me, I certainly never expected. But did I want to discuss that now? My fingers clumsy with excitement, I helped him open the remaining buttons of my shirt and I shrugged out of it. He took a shaky step back, one of his hands still gripping my wrist. His wild gaze sent goose bumps across my flesh. When he licked his lips, my whole skin shivered with anticipation.

“Dylan.” His eyes widened with eagerness. “Look at you. Christ.”

I started to laugh from nervousness and I swallowed it quickly. “You’re the idiot. I’m not… Well, I haven’t been to the gym much this month, you know…”

He laughed and let go of me. I watched him peel his shirt up over his head, my gaze fixed on the tensing muscles of his stomach. He was well toned for a man whose job was usually associated with long hours at a computer screen. The broad shoulders ran into a slender, wiry body. Plenty of strength there, I knew, the result of his hectic lifestyle and his personal enthusiasm in following a story physically as well as literally, taking him to all parts of the world. Dammit, he didn’t need a budget gym membership like some of us.

“Dylan,” he whispered. He was smiling, watching me watching him. He lifted a hand to his chest, teasing at one of his nipples, and I heard him suck in a short, fierce breath. I shuddered, instinct taking control of me. Dark hairs dusted across the skin of his pecs, then ran in a trail all the way down the center of his torso to his navel. And below. The skin was slightly tanned but there was a stretch of pale skin just showing under the waistband of his sweats. Long legs and strong feet, bare feet. I knew there’d be nothing else on under the sweats, and I was suddenly breathless.


I'll be back tomorrow with more from Clare. Until then...

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell

Thursday, April 15, 2010


While gabbing via email, Raine Delight admitted she's an avid reader and author and maybe a tad masochistic. I asked what that meant for her future. Raine proudly typed she'd recently signed contracts for six more books, five of which are due this year. Here's a brief tease for your upcoming reading pleasure:

Coming Soon in 2010 from Aspen Mountain Press

Devon Falls Series

MOONLIGHT & MAGIC (Paranormal/Shifter)

Can Michael win Dixie’s heart… chocolate kiss at a time?

Dixie Sinclair was bored and just about ready to give up on love ever finding her. Her cousins all had love matches and frankly, she was tired of being the one always alone. Impulsively making a wish to find love before her next birthday, she never expects to find the one man to turn her inside out and make her believe in love all over again.

Michael Barnes is a rare white tiger shifter and with no pride of his own, he roams from place to place, trying to find the one place to call home. What he never expects is to find the one woman who is destined to be his mate. Can he find a way to win Dixie’s heart while teaching her the delights of chocolate kiss at a time?


YULETIDE MAGIC (Holiday Paranormal Romance)

The magic of Yule delivers the best gift of all in Devon Falls.

Yule has always had Mandy Alexander in one tight knot as she tries to keep her neighbors from finding out that she is a practicing wiccan and to escape from the painful memories of the past. Escaping to Devon Falls for a Yule ritual among friends, she encounters Grady O’Neil, a man who calls to her in more ways than one. With the magic of the season around them, can Mandy let her heart trust Grady enough to let him show her the delights that love can give her?


Club Fantasy Series

What happens when your deepest, darkest fantasies want to be let out and you have no idea where to turn? Is there a place where you can find several partners to enjoy, be punished by your master and enjoy it, or be able to dominate the man of your dreams?

Welcome to Club Fantasy where all your fantasies will be fulfilled in whatever manner you desire. Each room delivers a different fantasy and whatever you desire will claim you: heart, body and soul! Once you walk through those doors, be prepared to let those fantasies come alive!

Book 1: DESIRES UNLEASHED (Paranormal Ménage/BDSM)

Can Larissa submit to the two men who stir her senses and steal her heart?

Book 2: ECSTASY UNCHAINED (Paranormal BDSM Erotic)

Can Synnara Deveroux find a way to let her fantasies come alive in Master Tegan Wynters Arms?


My Visa is about to have a good time shopping at Aspen Mountain Press. :)

For more on the steamy Raine Delight click on her Website. Raine is also on Twitter and Youtube. For more fun, join Raine's Readers Loop where you'll also meet other talented authors and a fine group of fun loving readers.

I'll be back Monday with British author Clare London. Until then...

Happy Writing!

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell