Sunday, 30 January 2011

"SCARED" by Sarah Masters

Last night I finished this amazing book by the fabulous Sarah Masters. I'll confess it was a little out of my comfort zone. I tend to read in the evening and prefer to fill my head with sweeter  images than kidnap and sex trafficking. (Hot hunks chasing women is more my scene) - however once I started this story the characters kept swirling around my head. I had to know what happened to them, how would they get out of their dire situation. Also these few lines really grabbed my attention and sent a trickle of fear slithering over my scalp!

He chuckled at the naivety of some parents. Thought they were safe because they had sons. Thought only girls went “missing”. Little did they know, until their kid got taken, boys were more in demand. 

I found myself dipping into Scared during the day, devouring the pages on my lovely new Kindle, and I can assure you it did not disappoint. Ms Master's made a wonderful job of weaving a complex tale full of both evil and delightful characters. It's a love story, its sexy - of the M/M variety - incredibly suspenseful and will leave you thinking about another world, lurking beneath the surface of ours. I highly recommend it.

Here's the blurb

The gangster: Frost hires thugs to kidnap young boys and sells them to punters, making thousands in the lucrative sex trade. He needs taking down, but is anyone out there strong enough to do it?

The employee: Croft works for Frost, looking after the young boys held in captivity. He had been abducted himself, but Frost decided to employ him instead. Will Croft always do Frost’s bidding?

The witnesses: Russell and Toby needed finding. They’d witnessed far too much. Frost isn’t about to let them spill the truth on what he’s really doing on the outskirts of London.

One sex ring, two lovers, and a host of other people, all bound together. All scared.

Reader advisory: Contains dubious consent between adults.

Follow the above link to see what else she's been up to.

Saturday, 29 January 2011

Seeds of Desire

'Seeds of Desire' by Karenna Colcroft is fresh out at Ellora's Cave - check it out  

For Cassidy Shelton, working with Jared Jackson is a form of torture, partly because of his arrogant attitude and partly because of the lust for him that Cassidy can’t quite deny.

When the two are sent on an overnight business trip to promote a reforestation project, their desire peaks. From making out in Jared’s car to seduction through thin hotel walls, sparks fly fast and furious between them. Cassidy may feel ambivalent about Jared, but her body doesn’t.

But when Jared strips away the arrogance to bare his heart, can Cassidy accept it? And can she admit, even to herself, that she feels the same about him?

Buy it here

Friday, 28 January 2011


My good pal Natalie Dae had a night of insomnia!! Seems it was my fault - sort of. Anyway she managed to get loads done during the time she would have otherwise frittered away on sleep and it sounds like her fabulous Victorian hero kept her well entertained!!

Read all about it at Three Wicked Writers

Thursday, 27 January 2011


Mirror Music is the second short story in my 'Mattress Music' series featuring 'The Manic Machines' and their naughty rock and roll antics.


As Robbie Harding belts out hit song Jenny to a packed Wembley Stadium, my heart tears, my mind fudges and my insides heat to a lusty, pulsing boiling point.

Why me more than the other 90,000 screaming fans?

Because I’m Jenny—he’s singing about me.

The guy is sex on legs with a voice to match and has starred in all my hot dreams since the day boys became interesting. For three precious years, it was more than hot dreams. 

Turns out he wants me back in his life and his bed. How can I resist?
So with lots of naked, sweaty and downright dirty time to make up for, I wield my backstage pass, hunt him down and refuse to be starstruck by the boy next door. Seems Robbie agrees, as he insists on tuning in to my needs and rediscovering our rhythm before we even reach a bedroom.


My stomach tightened as I followed Sylvia down a brightly lit winding corridor. Several people rushed past us and we had to flatten ourselves against the wall to get out of their way. As we moved on again I patted my bubbles of blonde hair, frizzing because of the damp evening. I wore just the tiniest hint of makeup, a thin layer of waterproof mascara and sheer gloss.
Beneath my hoody I had on a small cream t-shirt with a V-neck. Within the V sat the tiny butterfly necklace Robbie had bought me the last Christmas we’d spent together. It wasn’t an expensive piece of jewelry. Neither of us had much money then. But it had meant a lot that Christmas morning, especially when he said that he knew I needed to spread my wings and fulfill my dreams of university.
We stopped outside a shiny white door. A burly security guy stood against it with his thick arms crossed over his colossal chest. He gave Sylvia the smallest of nods and stepped aside as she reached for the handle.
Beneath my faded denim jeans, my knees turned watery. I didn’t know if I could go through with this, seeing Robbie after all this time. He wasn’t the boy next door anymore. The guy I’d lost my virginity to in the tent at the bottom of his garden. He was an international musician, known all over the world for his talent and his good looks. He dated supermodels and Oscar winners. He wasn’t “my” Robbie Harding anymore. He belonged to millions of adoring fans.
I tugged at my bottom lip with my teeth and dragged in a deep breath. I was a little dizzy, a little nauseous.
He’d lost his virginity to me too. We’d traded. We’d done it so we were even. We both wanted to be each other’s first—and last, if I remembered the conversation correctly.
Sylvia pushed open the door and took a step inside. I stayed still. Out in the corridor where the lights were harsh and the air stuffy.
But I wasn’t the girl next door either. Not anymore. I was “Dr.” Calahan and I’d just been involved in important research into the prevention of malaria. My name, along with the results of my study, had been splashed about several medical journals. I no longer collected butterflies in jam jars any more than he still had a snail farm in an old fish tank in his garage.
We’d both changed.
“Come in,” Sylvia called to me. “Come in, they don’t bite.”
I knew for a fact one of them did when he got carried away. In the heat of the moment he’d been known to give my inner thighs quite a nip.
I swallowed and felt the burly security man’s gaze on me. I looked up. His eyes were a piercing, glacial blue.
“You okay, Miss?” he asked. “You look kind of starstruck.”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Not starstruck though, this is more like coming face to face with a ghost.”

Mattress Music was released last November and tells the story of Nina and the sexy but secretive Ian.


Is it possible to lose one's ability or orgasm? Nina has. Lately, her fun weekend hook-ups have been more "ho-hum" than "hot damn"! It doesn't help that she has three flatmates and is forced to play loud music to mask the sounds of her lovemaking. Talk about distracting! Of course, there's another reason Nina's less than satisfied these days...she's just having a hard time admitting it.
Its a good thing she's met Ian, then. Not content to be a weekend hook-up, Ian is set on giving Nina what she's been missing while making her admit what she needs. His talented fingers - and other body parts - are up to the task. But Ian's not admitting a few things himself. Turns out his fingers can do more than make Nina's body sing. When she discovers his secret, it's time for both of them to face the music.


“You’re fucking awesome,” he whispered into my ear on a hot, panting breath.
“You too,” I said, running my hand down his perfectly smooth back. Not a pimple anywhere, just acres of glorious hot, male flesh and a deeply guttered spine lined with solid muscle. “Really good.”
He lifted his head and looked into my eyes. “Liar.”
“Liar, you didn’t come.”
“I did, it was great…you were great.” Lying to a man who was buried inside me was not something I was good at.
“I’m not stupid, Nina, I can tell when a woman orgasms. I can’t always tell the difference between real and fake, but bloody hell, you didn’t even try to pretend, not even a little wriggle and a gasp at the right moment.”
Frowning and shifting my hips I muttered, “Sorry,” as I pushed out from under him.
“Don’t be sorry.” He rolled to his side, bent his arm and propped his head on his hand. The flat silver cross around his neck hung toward the mattress. “Just tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it for next time,” he said, still catching his breath.
Next time? Not likely. One-night stands were my game. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” I pulled the duvet to my chin and turned to the wall. “It was me.”
He caught my jaw. “Tell me,” he ordered, tipping me to face him. “I want to know.”
Through the dim light, blushed orange by a streetlamp, I could see his dark eyes staring straight into mine, unblinking. One of my flatmates banged crockery in the kitchen next to my room then a deep rumble of laughter from one of the guys, Jerry I think, filtered through the thin wall.
“Why do you care?” I asked, toes and fingers curling.
“I’m lying naked in bed with you, we’ve just shared as intimate an experience as two people can, and you wonder why I’m bothered that you didn’t have as good a time as me? Would I be human if I didn’t give a shit?”
I shrugged. Candle in the Wind had finished, and in its place Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me was swirling around us.
Too late to save myself from falling
That was me, I thought, too far gone on this road of shagging any cock I could find to be saved. In my old flat, living with Dee and Fiona, life had been great and mattress music was never needed. We all just went for it, having as much sex and as many noisy orgasms as possible. We would giggle about it over breakfast and swap stories about what racy shenanigans we’d been up to.
But now they’d moved on. They were both head over heels in love and settled in their own homes, leaving me out on a limb and living here with strangers.
Of course I wasn’t technically alone, but if I was honest I’d never felt so lonely. I didn’t want to be, loneliness was like a dull, gray hole swelling inside me. Starting in my stomach and stretching outward. And in the center of this hole was a new bitter emotion―envy. I envied what Dee and Fihad found, lasting love with respect and commitment. But admitting what I wanted and changing the fact that there was no one special in my life were two separate issues.
More pressingly, at the moment anyway, nor could I change the fact that I hadn’t orgasmedsince I’d moved. My one-night stands just weren’t doing it for me anymore. The intimacy of getting naked and sweaty with someone wasn’t satisfying the hunger, the need that was eating away at me like an itch I couldn’t quite reach.
I’d been here three weeks, three fucks. But each week there had been something sneaking into my brain that had distracted me from the delicious build-up to climax. Deadly quiet the first week when I was with a bodybuilding scaffolder from Durham, every mattress squeak and grunt sliding under the door and echoing through the walls. With Dave, an earnest accountant from Chelsea, a knock on my door midway through a blowjob put me off my stride. And now this morose mattress music was stopping me from having a great time with the truly gorgeous Ian.
“Nina?” Ian pressed, dragging me from my depressed musing.
“It was the damn music,” I said with a frown. He wasn’t going to let it drop so I might as well fess up. “I couldn’t concentrate. You were doing it right, great, but I just kept thinking of Marilyn Monroe and Princess Diana and Elton singing at his piano with his big, wobbling white wig and that mole thing he used to paint on his cheek.”
Ian tipped his head back and laughed. A big guffaw that shook the bed.
Shh!” I pressed my fingers to his lips.
“Thank God for that,” he said, grinning. “Thought I’d lost my touch.”
“It’s not funny,” I whispered.
“No, no.” He tried to straighten out his grin. “Of course it’s not. I’ve just never thought of it before, the words in a song competing for the attention of the woman I’m trying to please.” He dropped a kiss to my lips. “So why did you put it on if you don’t like it?”
“So no one will hear. The walls here are so thin, and I’ve got male flatmates who I don’t wantperving with glasses pressed to the walls.”
“You think they would?”
I sighed. “Probably not, they seem nice enough, but just the same…”
“You want your privacy.”
“Exactly.” I paused then sighed. “We should have taken a cab and gone to yours.”
“Yeah, but this was closer, much closer, just a quick walk around the corner.” He smoothed the hair from my face. It always went wild after sex. The hundreds of tiny, copper corkscrews seemed to take on lives of their own. “Maybe we could leave the music off and do it really, really quietly,” he whispered, spreading springs of my hair over the pillowcase.
“No,” I said. “That won’t work, I’ll be too conscious of even our breathing, or if the mattress squeaks.”
His eyes narrowed and a muscle in his cheek flexed, then he got up, walked to the iPod and finally silenced Elton. “This isn’t over you know.”

Coming soon, Ménage a Music - find out who brothers Tim and Dean have set their sights on!

Wednesday, 26 January 2011

Black Cougar Curse - OUT TODAY!

Black Cougar Curse by Tess Mackall and Natalie Dae is hot off the press today - check it out.


Deep in the mountain wilderness, Lucia Chavez searches for closure to her father’s death, and the mythical black cougar he sought. Drop-dead sexy Cherokee Indian guide Sam Starr knows more than he’s telling. After he saves Lucia from being swept away in a mudslide, the bath they both need turns steamy indeed. Sam and Lucia are living proof that near-death experiences can bring two people closer together—they can’t keep their hands off each other.
Amidst danger and mystery, Sam and Lucia explore the lust that burns between them. If their desire gets any stronger it could bring down the mountains. Ancient secrets hold the key to their unbridled sexual need. Was their passion written in the stars?
One man. One woman. A curse that binds them—and could tear them apart.


By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

Sam Starr arched his back and gasped for air. Rain stung his naked skin. He lurched forward then sat while he grew accustomed to his human form. Ages had passed since his first transformation and it never got any easier. Emotions, senses, need, all changed, but somehow lingered from each of them. But this time, something was different. The cougar essence had given reign to its man-spirit, allowing him to shift earlier than usual—because of the woman camped out at the base of the bluff.

Sam had gotten word from the boys at the sporting goods store when he’d stopped in for supplies a few days before that she was looking to hire him as a guide. He’d spotted her campsite two days ago from a distance but hadn’t approached, figuring she’d give up and go back to the city where she belonged. Only she hadn’t, and apparently had decided to move deeper into the forest. A bad move on her part. She’d chosen to make camp at the bottom of an unstable area. With the rains they’d had in the last couple of weeks and tonight’s downpour, she wasn’t safe. It wouldn’t take much more to bring the entire slope down on her.

“Damn it. Why me?” he muttered as he pushed off the muddy ground.

The idea of dealing with a citified woman didn’t appeal to him at all, much less one who seemed intent on finding him when he didn’t want to be found. Pushy. That’s what she was. Just plain damn pushy. Well, she’d find out he could push right back. He lifted the branch in front of him to pass through and scraped his hip on the tree’s trunk.

Remembering his nakedness, he chuckled. Well, she wanted to see me.

As he picked his way through the soaked terrain, he looked back at the hillside. Water ran like a river straight down its center. Sam had been made aware of the impending natural disaster through his cougar self, but the fact that the woman was in danger was something his cougar didn’t know until Sam had transferred the information to the cougar. Miraculously, the cat had yielded to its man-spirit’s dominance.

And that had never happened before.

Yes, they often shared information, but one had never allowed the other to interfere with their time in earthly form, only sensing each other in their minds and certainly never shifting sooner in preference to the other’s needs. Sam thought about that. He had needed to shift. Needed it to get the woman out of harm’s way. Had he asked his cougar to yield? All he remembered was the shift. And right now he didn’t have time to dwell on it. Regardless of how much he despised some prissy woman invading his territory, he couldn’t let her be swept away in a mudslide.

Blinking his eyes against the sheet of rain, he made his way to the campsite. The smell of smoke was strong, almost acrid. Lightning repeatedly clapped and strobed, invading the pitch black, showing him the way. As he drew near, the woman stood and let the blanket she was using for shelter against the rain fall at her feet. Her eyes wide, mouth shaped in a huge O, a soft wail of fright came from her throat.

Sam tamped down the urge to laugh. She looked like she’d seen a ghost. Stopping opposite her, next to the dying campfire, he planted his feet firmly apart, toes digging into the muddy mix of earth, leaves and twigs. He waited to speak, struck by the need to assess her more closely. Her spirit was strong and his cock twitched.

He concentrated, focusing just above her great big eyes. A deep crimson aura emanated from her body. Strong woman. Angry. But the depth of that red was mottled with shades of gray and even black. She was broken. Something dark dwelled within her and distrust burgeoned inside Sam.

“Heard you were looking for me,” he said.

Her lashes batted as if she were surprised he’d spoken. She closed her mouth, swallowed hard and in a trembling voice asked, “Are-are you Sam Starr?”

“I am.”

“But you’re naked.” Her gaze drifted up and down his body.

Sam shifted, her scrutiny doing something to him he hadn’t anticipated. He gritted his teeth, willing his cock to behave. Hell, she looked like a drowned rat more than a woman, not at all pretty as far as he could tell, yet his body responded. That’s what he got for letting his monthly visit to see the Monroe sisters slide this time. He’d been too restless, and that should have been reason enough to go, but he hadn’t been willing to leave his mountains. Something—or someone—had stopped him. And maybe that someone was standing right in front of him.

But why?

“My mountains. I dress or not dress the way I like.”

She looked away. Rain soaked her clothes and dripped from long hair that lay plastered to her head. Her thin cotton shirt clung to her, displaying full, rounded breasts. Just the way he liked them. A lot more than a handful. Damn it. Why the hell did he have to be naked? He felt his cock rising.


“I’ve been looking for you for two days,” she said.

“Well, looks like you found me. But we have more important things to deal with right now.” Sam glanced up at the hillside. “You’re camped at the bottom of what is about to be a nice little mudslide.”


A fireball streaked from the sky and landed in a treetop about twenty feet away, the resounding thunder so loud, she jumped from where she stood straight into his arms. A horrendous cracking noise followed. Sam’s cock pressed into her stomach as his arms instinctively wrapped around her and he half dragged, half carried her from the path of the falling tree. In the rush to safety, he slipped and they both landed in the slushy muck. The tree crashed to the ground not a foot away.

Beneath him she squirmed, clawing at his chest. “Get off me!”

He rolled from her and scrambled to get up. “No problem, lady. Let’s just get the hell out of here before that hill comes down on top of us.”

He grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet. She pulled away, stumbling toward her small tent, which had collapsed from the weight of the rain. Sam cussed to the high heavens. He was in the middle of one of the worst storms he’d ever seen on the mountain and stuck with some crazy city woman intent on getting herself killed.

Sam’s chest tightened, warning him of danger. His bare feet splattered mud and water as he rushed to catch up to her. He’d carry her out if he had to, but they had to go now! Damn it. Just as he reached her, she turned and shoved a large canvas duffel bag into his chest.

“Take this!” she screamed over the howling wind and horrendous thunder.

“Hell, no!” He threw the bag on the ground. “We’ve got at least two miles to walk in this storm.”

“Those are my clothes, for God’s sake. I can’t leave them!” She bent over, grabbed the bag from the ground and slammed it into his chest again. “The bag goes or I stay.”

Yeah, definitely a crazy woman. “Then stay. I’ll drop by in the morning and say a few words over the burial ground.” Sam started to walk away.

“Wait! You’d just leave me like that?”

“Well, if God didn’t give you sense enough to come in out of the rain, there’s not a lot I can do about it.” He took a few steps more.

“All right. How about you at least carry it to higher ground so I can come back for it tomorrow. The rest I’ll handle myself.”

Unbelievable. She planned on him being her pack mule. “The rest?”

“My camera equipment. I need it. I can handle that, but not the big bag too. Please, it’s not that heavy. The camera equipment weighs a heck of a lot more.”

Right now he’d be willing to crawl all the way back to his cabin just to get the hell out of there. He quickly strode to the bag and hoisted it over his head, wincing as the strap scraped his skin. She nodded and gathered three more bags, hanging one around her neck and placing the other two medium-sized totes on each shoulder. They headed across the clearing and through the dense trees, skirting the hillside. From behind them a low rumbling sound erupted.

Sam glanced back to see uprooted trees sliding toward them. “Run!”

With no time to waste, he weaved in and out of the thick stand of trees, taking them deeper into the woods. Their only chance was to get far enough into the forest to use the stout tree trunks as protection. Hopefully the forest debris and wall of trees would slow down the mud and give them some lead time. He heard her cry out and stopped.

Glancing behind him, Sam saw that she had fallen. He ran to her as the roaring flood of mud and everything it had swept up in its path raced toward them. One of the bags had slipped from her shoulder and landed on the ground.

She looked up at him as he neared and said, “I twisted my ankle.”

Lightning spat all around them, revealing a solid wall of mud only seconds away. He’d have to carry her out. With one hand at her waist, he tried levering her across his shoulder, but the other two bags got in the way. Without a word, he ripped away the one now dangling from her upper arm as she whipped the smaller one from around her neck and held onto it. He tossed her across his shoulder and took off at breakneck speed.

Time and space spread out before him as his cougar force seized control and guided his steps. Swift and surefooted, Sam maneuvered the darkest woodland where even the illumination of lightning failed to penetrate the thickness of the treetops. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, fueling the wild dash. Hanging from his shoulder, the woman wrapped her arms around his lower chest and held steady. Rumbling, crashing, the slide continued to roll toward them. If he could get across the ravine, they would be safe.

A keen whine slurred from his throat as his leg muscles cramped then stretched. Closer to the ravine, his strides lengthened and in preparation for the jump, his toes dug into the ground. Seconds ticked along with his heartbeat. One…two…three…he leapt, the sound of air rushing past him tunneling through his ears. The break in the forest gave way to the lightning once more. Beneath them, the jaws of the thirty-foot deep chasm gaped wide. The woman screamed, her fingers scratching at his skin.

Less than a moment later, his feet landed firmly on the other side and he fell to the ground. She spilled from his grip and tumbled to his side. His lungs burned as if they were going to burst and his heart beat so fast he thought surely he would die. Struggling for air, he looked toward the ravine. The wall of mud poured into the opening.

The woman next to him cupped his upper arm and rested against him. Several minutes passed and they continued to sit in the rain and watch the mud fill in the ravine. Finally finding the strength to stand, Sam pushed up from the soaked ground.

She looked up at him, shaking her head. “What the hell just happened?”

Sam swiped a thick strand of long hair from his face and answered, “We lived to see another sunrise.”

Natalie Dae

Natalie Dae writes erotic romance; sometimes paranormal, sometimes fantasy, and sometimes everything else! She lives in a quiet village in England with her husband, children, and three cats. In her spare time she reads, reads, reads. Oh, and cleans house–a terrible obsession.
Natalie is a multi-published author in several genres under other pen names.


Tess MacKall

Tess is a sassy Southern belle who loves to flirt and tease. It was no big surprise to her friends when she began writing erotic romance and erotica. There’s nothing she likes better than weaving a sexy plot that entangles her hero and heroine and forces them to look love square in the eye.
With a background in journalism, she began her career with a local newspaper, and then moved on to politics. Having a flair for marketing, she worked on various political campaigns across the South and honed her skills as a speech writer. After several years, she left the political arena and returned to her beloved hometown to raise her family and live her dream of writing.
Next on her list of dreams is to start life anew in a small coastal town. She hears the call of the ocean and can imagine sitting on the beach listening to the waves, and to all those sexy characters who keep talking in her head. Life is about change and the need to keep it fresh. There is nothing more exciting than a little reinvention from time to time—new locales to explore and motivation for the muse. Her three children have been her greatest joy, and when she passes from this life to the next, she wants a diamond created from her ashes for each of them because “love lives on”.


Tuesday, 25 January 2011

HIRED - please vote!

There's still time to vote for HIRED's first chapter, cover and first and last lines at D. Renne Bagby's. Just follow this link and click Vote Now for the best of December.