Morning all! Wow, well I’ve had a busy week this week, so I apologise for the limited amount of posts I’ve put up. I’ve been writing like a mad-woman (because of course lunacy always helps you write, as everyone knows!), and I’ve visits from relatives, a book tour, sales stuff, all kinds of things! But I’m popping one up today, although I’m going to be telling you all about my newest book, a collection of paranormal erotica-so please don’t read any further if you don’t like that sort of thing. I don’t want to be sued because your eyeballs melted away.
I’ll even put a little excerpt for you, how nice am I?
Sex and the paranormal have always gone hand in hand, and these stories will delve into your deepest fears and fantasies….
A young woman has a strange urge, one she cannot fulfil-she dreams of fangs and blood along with her most sensual thoughts. She is beginning to think she will go mad, when a chance encounter with a stranger occurs at a country hotel…
A simple night in the woods with her possibly ex-boyfriend starts terribly for Selena, and gets worse at it turns murderous. But what she doesn’t realise is that sometimes murderous creatures get a taste for women lost in the woods…
GIVING INTO TEMPTATION
Elisabeth is a useless Wiccan witch, with less power in her whole body than anyone else’s little finger. So when she finds an advert advertising help with finding your magickal niche, she decides to take it up. But the bearer of the advert has another reason to attract her to him…
HUNTING THE HUNTER
Having been alive longer than any other vampire she knows, Arielle has fought quite a few hunters in her time. But one night a hunter breaks in who catches her attention, and her desires…and a vampire’s desires may not always be what you want them to be…
Warning! This book contains graphic scenes of sex, mild BDSM scenes, some swearing, very hot and sexy men and women both paranormal and human, and just a sprinkle of cheekiness!
I have an unspeakable craving.
I’m not even sure that it is the craving I believe it is, but it keeps me awake at night, it makes me toss and turn and fling sweat-covered blankets to the floor.
The first time I felt it, I was watching a film with one of them starring in it. He was tall and sensuous, a wicked smile curving his perfectly formed lips. As his stormy blue eyes stared into the camera, I caught my breath, feeling as though he were looking straight at me, that strange twinge surprising me somewhere in my nether-regions.
My life became one of two halves. By daytime, I worked at my easy-going office job, chatting with oblivious friends, going for after-work drinks, the usual things, you know? But in my spare time, I poured over bookstore shelves for new tales about these mythical creatures; I hung around the kind of clubs that held their wannabes. I’m not sure why I went to those clubs. I suppose it was because I didn’t know where else to look, even if they were full of their poor imitations. In my heart of hearts, I knew they wouldn’t ever dream of hanging out in themed clubs, they were more likely to be found teaching your children, or in your local library.
But it was if they didn’t want me to find them. Well, why would they? What made me so special from all the other women who wanted to find one? And I knew that there must be other women who felt the same; I had seen them in those clubs, had read their books. But what I felt was more than a desire, a curious feeling that needed to be explored; I needed it, more than I needed water or air.
At night I would lie on my own in my bed, naked and on top of the sheets, squirming in anguish. Lying in the dark, I would close my eyes and imagine my night-time lover instead, using my own hands. I would let them roam over my soft breasts, rolling and pinching my nipples into hard points, sliding them across my rounded stomach. Letting my legs fall open, I would imagine his fingers probing gently into my warmth, sliding into the slickness with ease, pushing his fingers in and out; harder, faster. But it was no good; my hands were too soft, too feminine. I needed his hands, rough and firm, pinning me underneath him. And when I would drag my nails across my neck, it never really felt how I imagined their fangs would feel.
I decided I needed to get away from it all, maybe take a little break. Yes, that was what I needed, to take my mind off this ridiculous desire. I took a quick look online for hotels that were somewhere relaxing and peaceful, found a beautiful manor hotel in the countryside that promised “A welcoming and comfortable boutique hotel, surrounded by serene and relaxing countryside”. It sounded perfect.
When I arrived, I was taken aback by the stunning hotel before me. It truly was in the middle of nowhere, flanked only by an enormous forest of thick green trees. The taxi driver had taken about an hour and a half to get here, and nearly got lost along country roads that ended in nowhere. The manor itself was a Victorian beauty, great gothic windows and doors gaping from red-brick walls. Red-tinted ivy trailed its way up the front of the building, making it look as though it were trying to swallow it. I picked up my case, and began to walk along the crunching gravel driveway to the grand entrance.
The door was closed, but there was a doorbell, with a small, handwritten note above it that read, “Please ring for service’. I followed as the sign instructed, and waited patiently, clutching my holdall in my hands. A few seconds later, the door slowly opened wide, as did my jaw.
Stood in front of me was the most stunning male I had ever set eyes upon; a true figure from the lustful dreams of ladies. He stood about six-foot or more, built with sinewy muscle. A simple white shirt was covering his torso, a few buttons undone at the neck, dark blue jeans complementing it. A roguish smile was joined by two sparkling midnight blue eyes, framed by dark brown hair, messily arranged as if he had just risen from bed.
“Well, hello. You must be my guest for the weekend, yes?”
I blushed, my tongue suddenly struck dumb by his deep, rich tones. “Umm…yes…I am. Wait, I’m your guest? As in singular?”
He chuckled, stretching his arm up and leaning it against the door-frame, putting his other hand on his hip. I noticed how his stomach muscles shifted beneath that crisp shirt at the moment. “Yes, it’s a quiet weekend. But don’t worry; the service is still all up and running.”
I swallowed nervously, but managed to smile. He held his hand out in welcoming, offering it for me to shake. I shook myself mentally, gathering my senses. Why was I acting this way over a stranger? He was gorgeous, but it just wasn’t like me. Clearing my throat, I put my hand into his to shake it-
It was like a bolt of electricity had just shot up my arm. The feel of his rough palm against mine made pinpricks of heat spread across my cheeks, the thought of them sliding against my legs made dampness grow between them, my insides doing a double flip. Thoughts of his curving lips against them even, his tongue sliding into delicious places…
I snapped back into reality, becoming acutely aware that I was still standing shaking his hand like an idiot. Glancing back up at his mischievously smiling face, I wondered if had felt it too. There was a dark glint in his eyes that said maybe he might have…
…My room was perfect. It was a beautiful recreation of a Victorian bedroom. to match the rest of the house. The walls were painted a deep red, covered with large works of art from various painters. A huge four-poster dominated the room, covered in swathes of fabric, and a heavy coverlet embroidered with a complicated pattern of shapes. A luxurious carpet covered the floor, soft and inviting, an antique-looking Turkish rug in front of a tiled fireplace.
I pulled a short, silky nightgown out of my holdall; I hadn’t bothered to unpack it as there wasn’t much to unpack, and I was only here for the weekend. Sliding the cool fabric over my head, I felt my nipples tighten as it brushed them, and I thought of the hotel-owner’s hands again. That familiar urge began to return, and I wondered if it had been such a good idea to come here after all.
Ignoring my own body, I crawled into the soft bed, lying back against the fluffed pillows, and allowed my mind to drift into the realms of sleep…
…It was the hotel-owner again. But he had taken his shirt off now, and was stood next to my bed in nothing but his jeans. He stared down at me with his deep eyes, that smirk still gracing his lips-but there was something more passionate about it now, something…hungry. I tried to move, but it was like moving through quicksand. I decided to lay still, a feeling of peace and calm falling over me.
He sat himself on the side of the bed, and raised his hand towards me, running it along the length of my jawline. That small touch gave me that electrified feeling again, making me gasp in reply. He chuckled, a dark sound in the silence between us, and rubbed his thumb along my lips, making me close my eyes in pleasure.
“Poor girl,” he soothed, “you’ve had such a longing for such a long time, haven’t you? An ache that won’t go away; no matter what you do?”
All I could do was nod, dumbly. I was beginning to see that there was something about him, something…that I desperately needed. My hips arched towards him, begging him for more, pleading with him. He noticed the movement, and raised an eyebrow towards them. Leaning back, he placed his rough hand on my thigh, the exquisite touch exactly what I needed. He hitched in a breath as his hand slid along my leg, pushing up just the edge of the nightgown, teasing me.
But then his hand stopped.
I whimpered in agony, wishing my arms would move fast enough for me to push his hand back, to make him touch me again. He simply licked his lips, allowing me a brief flash of the fangs I already knew were there. Still staring at me with undisguised lust, he gently picked up my hand, raising it to his mouth. He laid a soft kiss on the back of my knuckles, before turning it over slowly. He bared his sharp canines, sinking them deeply into my wrist.
I screamed, from pain. This wasn’t at all how I imagined it to be, tearing away at my flesh like fire running through my veins. Without missing a beat, he moved his other hand over to the peaks straining against the top of my nightgown; softly rubbing them over and over with his thumb in agonising circles. He pinched one gently, just how I had imagined in my feverish day-dreams, making me suck in a breath and moan, surprising even myself. I realised that the drawing pain in my wrist had become a pleasurable ache, and intensely erotic as my blood dribbled over the sides onto the cover below…