First,a sizzling new release by one of my favorite authors, Elsa Holland, His Captive…
He’s here. His love is dark His heart is broken His hunger is insatiable And he is delicious!
His eyes bored into hers, reading every thought, seeing every graphic detail of her debauched fantasies.
Yes, she was debauched. She was depraved. Acts a genteel woman would run from made her core throb. Is that what she wanted from him? That a man like him might be able to give her what she wanted?
Think of something else.
The idea of who he might be suddenly clear. Is that why she came back? Is that what the attraction to him was about?
And what if she were wrong?
She grappled, drowning in his gaze, feeling him in her head.
“If you continue to look at me like that Rachael, I may simply whisk you away, hide you on one of my ships never to be seen again.” His voice, low and deep, rippled through her like a visceral touch. Need pulsed through her. Hot longing for things she dare not give voice to.
“I might like that,” she whispered dangerously under her breath. She slowly raised a single eyebrow as if what she said was a ridiculous proposition. But his eyes had turned to black orbs of intensity.
“You like to live dangerously,” Moriata said softly. “Didn’t Jax tell you to be careful of me? I am sure he told you what kind of man I am, Rachael.”
The air between them thickened.
His chest rose and fell faster than before.
She stood at the brink and jumped, nodding slowly, making them both smile.
Another agreement of sorts.
She didn’t want to examine it too deeply.
When you planned to jump off a cliff you didn’t dwell on all the ways you could fail to fly.
and… two of my books are featured in the delicious…
Don’t miss this fabulous collection of reads to make you quiver.
Food, sex and wine – my three favorite sensual pleasures. I’m thinking… why not combine them?
The obvious way to indulge would be a dinner date, or you could try ‘foodplay’ (think grapes, popsicles, whipped cream, phallic shaped vegetables 😉 within the bounds of healthy, safe sex of course.)
You might wonder what got me started thinking about combining food and sex. Well, the idea came from my creative friends in one of my stories-in-progress… Sweet Caroline, a ffm menage erotic romance. So far there’s ice-cream and champagne, as well a delicious but inedible sex toy. If you’d like to sample a bit of sweetness, check out the excerpt at the end of this post…
Sweet Caroline is just one of a new collection of erotic short stories: Black Ribbon Editions (brand new cover below, standing proudly beside the old favorite, Love, Lust & Nipple Clamps, with an updated cover).
As promised, here’s a taste of ‘Sweet Caroline’…
Shoes, socks, shirt and trousers off, the note instructed.
Luke obeyed, and unbuttoned his shirt. He peeled it off slowly, playing up to the looks of admiration from the two girls across the room. They were so different in appearance and personality, but he wanted them both equally. Jacqueline, dark haired, slim and athletic stood beside her seated friend, Caroline – pale, soft and curvaceous. By their parted lips and quickening breaths, it seemed they wanted him just as badly.
He toed off his shoes and bent to pull off his socks, watching as Jac moved behind her friend, trailing her fingertips along her collarbone and slipping the robe off one shoulder.
As he unzipped his trousers, Caro untied the sash of her robe, allowing one side to fall away and expose one lush breast, a pale strip of torso and a landing strip of honey-blonde.
Not moving from the doorway, Luke lifted his gaze and took in the scene before him, imprinting it on his memory. The two beautiful women he had grown to admire, either of whom it would be a pleasure and privilege to make love to, and here they had both invited him to share what promised to be a night he would never forget.
Stepping out of his trousers, he hung them over his shirt on the back of the chair. Luke held his breath, almost bursting out of his skin to find out what they had planned for him.
Caro picked up a bottle of champagne from the floor and popped the cork.
Jac took a glass from the vanity.
Caro reclined, opening her shapely legs. Her robe fell away.
Luke’s blood heated at the sight of her nakedness, the feminine curves of her inner thighs and abdomen exposed. He fought the urge to go to her, to drop on his knees between her legs and run his fingers through the strip of curls, to bury his face in her sex. He could almost taste her feminine scent.
When Jac knelt in front of Caro and nudged her knees wider, spreading her sex to his view, Luke’s cock surged to full attention. Fuck. Would Jac play out his urge to plunge her face between Caroline’s legs? Whatever they were about to do, he knew it was going to drive him mad.
His cock urged him to take action, to do something… to join them, or take hold himself. But he remained still. And waited for their next instruction. He was here by their invitation after all.
Fascinated, he watched Jac position the glass and Caro lift the bottle, then tip it. The liquid dropped downward in a thin stream, and plunged between her labia, the glass below catching the overflow. Luke’s mouth went suddenly dry at the sight of Caro, her head thrown back, her hips undulating beneath the flow of champagne.
I’ve been bitten by the historical bug… actually, I think I was bitten at birth, and this is in fact a serious relapse! I’ve always been a huge fan of historical fiction – and non-fiction – now I’m being sucked down into a glorious eddy of Victorian hedonism, vice and hidden, ancient sites in the name of research 😉
I can’t wait to share my discoveries as I explore the underground pleasures and taboos of historic London. Watch this space…
But now I have the cover, I better not get distracted by all those wicked temptations… I must write!
Okay, I have yet another confession… as a little girl I used to sneak into my dad’s collection of Playboy magazines. I just loved reading the letters to the editor and dreaming of the day I might look like one of the sexy centerfolds. I suppose my enjoyment of naughty magazines was an early manifestation of my appreciation of all things sensual, which grew into an urge to create my own erotic worlds through story.
Now I’m a big girl, my dream is to have my own monthly Playmates – or play boys. At this stage I don’t have the time or finances to go scouting for talent (damn!) so in the meantime I’ll showcase gorgeous characters from my stories.
I love my latest story, but I have to admit, I’m hopeless when it comes to having a poker face myself. If you could see me right now, you would agree. It’s release day! and I’m grinning like a Cheshire cat, so pleased to be launching my precious love-child out into the world…
Want to know what the fuss is about? Here’s the low-down…
On a Thursday evening, in a boarded up theatre in downtown Las Vegas, an illicit poker game takes place. Each player is carefully selected, their skills expertly matched …
A jaded playboy tempted by a titillating prize.
A cash-strapped mechanic looking for a diversion from his difficult reality.
An underground poker game where winning hands are rewarded with sensual novelties… and the ultimate prize—a night of pleasure with the naked woman on whom the cards are dealt.
Pokerface is FMM menage. Contains adult themes and explicit sex scenes – recommended for 18+ readers.
As an added bonus I’ve included the RWA award winning short erotic story, ‘Daisy, Chained’ (in case you haven’t already read my sizzling martial arts story) because one of my favourite characters – Hiro – is in both.
And a little tip – Pokerface is available in epub and mobi, but the pdf version is the prettiest, if you’re into that sort of thing…
I’m still watching the Hugh Hefner Story (boy, is it in-depth!) The latest episode, dealing with the ‘Pubic War’ between Playboy and Penthouse magazines during the 1960s and 70s (and Playboy’s first full frontal nude centrefolds) got me thinking…
Seeing all that rampant pubic hair can be a bit confronting in these times of brazillian waxes and careful pubic grooming. How times have changed since that first risque centerfold in relation to pubic hair and our preferences.
As always, I had fun Googling this and found a fabulous article. Apparently there is a hardcover book with every one of the 734 centerfolds, and someone wrote about perusing them all in one sitting!
“The most obvious signifier of the passage of time, and the thing every person has asked about when I’ve mentioned this book, is pubic hair. For the first two decades of centerfolds, there was none at all because it was obscured by strategically placed pillows, undergarments, or even roomy-cut khakis. Bits of hair didn’t start peeking out until around 1972, but by the mid-’70s, bushy vulvas were showing up in almost every photo. A decade later, hairstylists started to groom the puffs, though it wasn’t until the mid-’90s that what’s now known as a “landing strip” hit the runway. The relative newness of the thing about 84 percent of women now do to their genitals was a life-affirming revelation for this millennial, who suffered puberty in the aughts, or as Maureen Gibbon’s essay in The Complete Centerfolds dubs it, “the decade of the smoothie.” After enduring the entirely bare, child-like crotches of the 2010s, flip back to July 1977, where one magnificent image of pubic hair straight-up poking out of a butt crack will restore your internal calm.
“But for all the differences that emerge while flipping through generations of nudies, the similarities stand out far more. After looking at 734 photos of naked women, one can’t help but conclude that the human body has some very strict limitations and the human mind lacks any substantial creativity when it comes to sexy poses. There are only so many ways to slightly part a set of lips, only so many ways to mimic the act of putting clothes on or taking them off, getting in or out of a body of water, and stepping onto or off of a surface that looks reasonably prepared to support sexual intercourse.”
I particularly loved this comment, which reflects the theme of most of my short stories:
“The effect is a creeping feeling that any place can be a sexual place, and any activity a woman does—even those performed in the course of her job—can be a sexual activity. Playing golf, taking your order at a diner, exercising on a Stairmaster, applying a lure to a fishing rod, cuddling with akitten, delivering the nightly news at a TV station—if you look hard enough, with a few years of Playboy centerfolds filed away in your brain, these everyday pursuits are actually a kind of foreplay. That cyclist lady is naked underneath her flannel, you know.”
What I Learned By Looking at 734 Playboy Centerfolds in One Sitting Christina Cauterucci
I’m excited to offer a free novelette to heat up your day (or night). ‘Mistress of His Heart’is a sensual erotic romance…
The last thing James Owens expects when he asks his ex-lover for a second chance is to be tied naked and blindfolded to her table, then tormented with a riding crop and hot wax…But in his hectic and stressful life, submitting to a Dominatrix might be just what he needs, especially when Lizzie pulls out the nipple clamps and his world explodes in pleasure.
If you love free books, the kind that make your toes curl, check these out (and be sure to share the joy with like-minded friends and lovers).
Click on the image to choose your next scintillating read/s…
Like anyone, sometimes I feel a little uncertain about the path I’m on or a decision I’ve made. At these times, I know all I need is a small but powerful dose of Anaïs Nin – and one of her quotes was just the medicine I needed today.
“We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present.”
I feel like she has lived what I am living – that she has seen the internal struggles I face as a woman and a writer: “We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.”
That her sprit understands mine: “We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are.”
She gives me strength to be confident: “Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage.”
And the confidence to be strong: “And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”
To expect happiness and fulfilment: “I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naïve or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman.”
Anaïs Nin was a strong and complex woman. I am so grateful we have the legacy of her writing and her diaries to benefit from her insights and experiences.
Little Birds was the inspiration for my own collection of sensual short stories, Love, Lust & Nipple Clamps.
I recently came across the term ‘Venus butterfly’ and the context intrigued me. Those two words conjure delicious imagery – two gorgeous beings, one the epitome of feminine sensuality, the other a beautiful creature with her wings spread.
Anyone who read my post in July, or my author’s profile in the RWA Spicy Bites Anthology this year will be wondering – where are the novellas Josie planned to release by the end of the year?
Well, I sort of got caught up on the novel I’m writing based in 1920’s Washington DC and Jazz Age Paris. I have been working on the novellas, I promise… the first, a Girls on Film novella – Little Blond Lies is now available on Amazon and KDP.
To make it up to you, here’s a little teaser of the hot chemistry between streaming tv star Ethan Cox (when you read it you may notice an uncanny resemblance to a certain Last Kingdom hottie…) and Shakespearean stage actress Anya Stein when they meet in a steamy seaside town in Portugal. All I’m going to say is that Anya is out for revenge, but what she gets is so much hotter… if you like the taste and want more check it out on Amazon.
But, before I tease you, take a look at this…
Like what you see? Want to visit? So do I! This delicious place is where Little Blond Lies is set – Aveiro, the Venice of Portugal. Continue reading →