I Can’t Get Enough of Tenille Brown!


July has been something of a whirlwind month for me – not only did I celebrate the release of the second installment of The Vampire Bond trilogy, The Scarlet Bond, I also had stories in three – yes, get that, three! – extraordinary anthologies from Cleis Press – Can’t Get Enough  edited by Tenille Brown, Bound for Trouble edited by Alison Tyler, and The Big Book of Submission: 69 Kinky Tales edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel. And then of course, the incandescent Summer Loving antho, edited by Alison Tyler, came out to support Sommer Marsden and her family. If you haven’t bought a copy yet, please, please do – this one is important!

But today it’s all about one of the anthos, one which I, personally, can’t get enough of! The height of summer seems to have been the perfect time for the release of Tenille Brown’s fun-filled, super-steamy Can’t Get Enough. It’s perfect beach reading and an excellent primer for those hot summer nights when you simply feel…you can’t get enough. And I’m going to warm you up with an excerpt from my own story in the antho, ‘Those Damned Cobbles’. Enjoy!




Toward the end of the afternoon, you send me a text. I’m in the office and as I surreptitiously check my cell beneath the cover of my desk, your words set the heat rising within me.

Home already, waiting for you. But I can’t wait…

I know what that means. You’ve come home early; you’re lying on our bed, with your cock in your hand, your clothes strewn around the room, hurriedly discarded. For me, now the race is on. I’ve got to get back to you in time. Sometimes you can hold off long enough, but sometimes I’m simply too late. It’s a game we play and if I get home fast enough, sex is my reward.

I text you back.

I’ll be there.

I glance up at the clock; I’m contracted to sit in this chair for another fifteen minutes. I save the document I’m working on and power down my computer. Hoping no one will notice what I’m doing, I change my high heels for flats and get my bag ready to leave. My boss walks by my desk so I pretend to have my head down, reading an important paper. Thankfully he doesn’t stop to talk to me.

As soon as the minute hand reaches the vertical, I’m out of my chair and pulling on my jacket.

“Night all,” I call, as I hurry through the open-plan office toward the door.

Down in the parking garage I fumble with the combination lock on my bicycle. More haste, less speed—twice I get the numbers in the wrong order. But then the lock’s off and I strap my bag to the rack on the back. If only I had decided to bring the car this morning, I would have had a better chance of getting to you in time. Now I’m faced with a twenty-minute cycle ride, and I don’t want to be too exhausted at the other end for what you have planned.

I have to stand on the pedals to make it up the steep slope out of the office garage. I duck around the end of the barrier, waving at the security guard in his little box. Once I’m out on the street, it’s a downward slope and I’m able to settle back on the saddle to catch my breath. I love this old bike, but it’s hardly a racer. Several times you’ve offered to buy me something more aerodynamic, with a comfortable gel saddle and god knows how many gears, but I’m not interested. When I’d had this bike for a while, I christened it Barry. I’ve ridden miles sitting on Barry’s shiny leather saddle, which has been polished to a chestnut patina by the pumping action of my buttocks. And when I’m thinking of you as I ride, the hard, slippery saddle pushing up between my legs only adds to my anticipation.



You know what you want and you know who you want. Can’t Get Enough captures the intensity of those rapturous moments when passion takes over. Lauded eroticist Tenille Brown has curated a collection that captures the essence of irresistible desire in its many delightful forms. Girls (and boys!) just wanna have fun in Allison Wonderland’s joy-filled “Strip to My Lou.” Beatrix Ellroy’s “Before They Burn” shows just how memorably sexy an unexpected encounter in the middle of a work shift can be. A couple reveals sexual secrets that are both tender and a turn-on in Louise Blaydon’s “The End of Sensible.” An inspiring read, Can’t Get Enough is as good as it gets.

Buy links:

Cleis Press


Amazon UK

Barnes & Noble

Tenille Brown

Over the past ten years, Tenille Brown’s erotica has been featured online and in over 50 books, and her nonfiction writing was included in The Greenwood Encyclopedia of African American Writers. Her smut is featured online in various webzines and in over fifty print and ebook anthologies including Best Women’s Erotica, Chocolate Flava, 1 and 3, Curvy Girls, Going Down, Best Bondage Erotica, 2011 and 2012, Sapphic Planet, Suite Encounters, Open, Backdoor Pleasures and Best Lesbian Erotica 2013. The southern wife and mother writes for Mischief Books, drinks plenty of vodka, blogs at therealtenille.wordpress.com, and tweets @TheRealTenille.

There was this time in Amsterdam… #TeamRem


There’s nothing I love more than watching a red hot rock star strutting his stuff on stage. And perhaps, in another lifetime, I would have loved to have been a groupie. It’s my fantasy and it doesn’t matter to me that the reality of it probably wouldn’t live up to the fantasy because…my life as a groupie? It’s all in my head!

6156297_sBut today, I have a guest on Supeortica who I think I would have ‘groupied’ (is that a verb? To groupie?) for big time! I have an exclusive interview with Alison Tyler‘s irresistible creation – rock god and Sandy-sub, Rem, from her latest release from Go Deeper Press, Those Boys! And, that time in Amsterdam he refers to later in the interview? In my little fantasy land, that could have been me!

T: Welcome to Superotica, Rem! First off, a question that I think a lot of people will be interested in knowing the answer to. Tell me about your name, Rem – it’s one I’ve never come across, so is it a nickname or short for something else perhaps?

R: Rem is short for “Remington.” It’s a family name. Well, that’s what I like to say. Actually, I’m named for a gun oil that my RemOilgrandfather used.

T: I’m starting gently with you, so bear with me. Your stage clothes are amazing. Where did you get your sense of style and how do you use it to express your personality?

R: I strive for a mix of Johnny Cash and Dean Martin. Elegant cowboy? Western Rat Pack. Class with a little edge.

T: I’ve seen you on stage – and you rock! Your stage persona is definitely in charge – you have the audience eating out of the palm of your hand. But when you’re off stage, you’re a sub. How does that work? Do you assume a different character when you perform?

R: The music takes me where I need to go. I wouldn’t say I’m truly a Dom on stage, though. I would say the beat is my master. I’m sub to the music. Or maybe I’m a conduit—the music flows through me, through every kinky permutation.

T: And this is the question I always have to ask musicians – tell us about the groupies.

R: Shhh. That’s one for the memoir. There was this time in Amsterdam…

T: Oh, yeah… (drifts off for a moment…) Sorry! I think I mentioned this earlier – in your private life, you’re a 24/7 submissive to everybody’s favorite Dom, Sandy. We know how you met but tell us what went through your mind the first time you saw him.

R: Even though I’ve written songs about love at first sight, I don’t think I believed in the concept. Not fully. But when Sandy spoke, I went weak kneed. I’d never felt someone’s strength like that—reach out and touch me without having him lay a finger on my skin. I had to know who he was. I couldn’t not follow him.

T: Have you always been a sub?

R: Kink has always interested me. I haven’t ever shied away from a new sensation. But with women, I was almost always in charge. I tended to draw to me the ones who wanted me to tie them up. To do things to them. Sandy flipped my switch.

T: Now, I have to ask this. Is there really a little part of you that’s a switch? You played hard to get with Sandy, teased him a bit when you first hooked up. Would you secretly like to dominate him?

R: Honestly, I wouldn’t want to try. Sandy has his own demons, his own secret fantasies—I’m sure. But me being in charge of him? No, Ma’am. No, thank you.

T: Sandy is, to my mind, a benevolent Dom. He works hard to give you and Vanessa what you need as subs and he obviously cares for you both. But is there ever a time when you’re just a little bit afraid of him?

R: Well, yes. He is fierce. When he’s in motion, he can seem dangerous. I’m never afraid he will harm me—but I have trembled at the power he possesses. He has no fear of playing with pleasure and pain. His fearlessness is intense.

T: Tell us, what would be your dream scene with Sandy and Vanessa?

R: Some sort of competition. With constantly shifting rules and a finish line nobody ever reaches. Alice in Wonderland’s game of croquet, I suppose. But with sex.

T: And finally, where do you see yourself in five years’ time? What does the future hold for you, Rem?

R: When I close my eyes, I see myself with Sandy and Vanessa. Five years. Ten years. Fifteen. Twenty. From now until the end. I couldn’t go back to the life I had before. I’m not his or hers. I’m theirs.

T: Wow! Thank you so much for the interview, Rem.

So if this sexy stud has got you a little hot under the collar, you can get a glimpse into his world with Sandy and Vanessa in Alison Tyler’s brilliant Those Boys.

Buy it at:

Go Deeper Press


Amazon UK


Summer Loving: Summer in December


Here in the UK we’re having a heatwave and I gather it’s getting pretty hot in other places to! So it’s perfect timing for the release of an amazing new anthology, Summer LovingThat’s right – here in erotica land we’re all about Sommer-loving at the moment – and, no, that’s not a typo. Because this anthology has been brilliantly put together by erotica-uber-editor Alison Tyler to lend support to one of our own. Erotica writer Sommer Marsden’s family has been broadsided by cancer during the past 12 months; all the profits from Sommer Loving will go towards Sommer and her family. So please, please make sure you buy a copy and then spread the word to your family and friends so they can buy a copy, too.

So what’s it about? Here’s the blurb:

Summer speaks of balmy days, white-sand beaches, itsy-bitsy bikinis and romantic flings. The 20 sublime stories in this collection celebrate those decadent days and naughty nights with lots of sizzling summertime sex.

Erotic luminaries Donna George Storey, Sophia Valenti, Lucy Felthouse, Emerald, Jodie Griffin, May Deva, Teresa Noelle Roberts, A.M. Hartnett, Primula Bond, Sammi Lou Thorne, Elise Hepner, Tenille Brown, Tamsin Flowers, Kathleen Delaney-Adams, Thomas S. Roche, Cheyenne Blue, Delilah Night, Rachel Kramer Bussel, Justine Elyot, Angell Brooks, and Alison Tyler spin their sultriest stories ever.

Summer might only come once a year. But with this red-hot collection, you’re guaranteed to come all year round!


Alison Tyler did all the hard work collating and editing the stories, Willsin Rowe did the amazing cover that blasts us right back to the Summer of Love, and the ever-generous Selena Kitt handled the formatting and publishing jiggery-pokery! So a massive thank you to them, all the writers who so generously donated stories (including those who didn’t make it to the final cut) and anyone else who’s been involved… And a huge thank you to everyone who’s bought a copy so far.

And one last thing. I noticed that Superotica had been running a little low on home-grown Flowers recently – so here’s an excerpt from my story in Summer Loving, ‘Winter in December’. It’s all about midsummer’s day down in the Antarctic!

Winter in December

Call me a stickler for tradition but when it’s summer on the calendar, I like hot, and when it says winter, I want snow.  Which is just one of the reasons why I should never have taken a job as second chef at an Antarctic research station.  Yes, sure, there was snow in winter.  But it wasn’t hot in summer, it was cold, and it wasn’t summer in July, it was summer in December.  And when it should have been summer it was winter and even colder.  Doing your head in?  I live here and I can’t get my head around it.

And the other reason why I shouldn’t have taken the job?  Al, the delectable head chef and my boss, who sees me as nothing more than the girl who peels, chops and mashes the potatoes.  But then I didn’t know about Al when I took the job.

Between the two of us, we prep three meals a day for the thirty-five scientists that work at the research station, seven days a week, in two month rotations.  If you’ve ever worked a kitchen, you’ll know how hot and intense things get.  But if you work a kitchen with a guy who you can’t get out of you mind at the end of the shift, who you want to fuck senseless on the steel countertops and suck off in the walk-in cold store?  It’s a whole lot hotter and a whole lot more intense.

But Al doesn’t see me that way.  So I have to go into the cold store on my own to pour water on the flames.  I do that by working out how many potatoes I will have peeled by my next home leave.

Apart from Al and myself, the scientists are all Australian, so they get the summer in December thing.  But being weirded out by the seasons, that’s the one thing Al and I have in common.  Like today: it’s December twenty-first, the summer solstice.  It won’t even get dark but it’s still as cold as fuck.  The scientists have all gone on a two-day expedition, so it’s only me and Al, having an easy day, just quietly preparing things for the week ahead.  I know this is my one chance, so when Al suggests taking the evening off…

“What’s this?” says Al, when I put a glass down beside his computer, where he’s still working.

“Pina colada.  It’s midsummer, so we’re going to the beach.”

He gives me the sort of look generally reserved for pesky younger sisters.

“Taste it,” I say.

Two words irresistible to a chef.

Down on the beach, we kick snow into the water and Al suggests building a snowman rather than a sandcastle.  I know he’s humoring me now, wondering how long he has to stay here before going back to his work.  I watch him running along the edge of the water.  So hot with his dark jeans carelessly crumpled at the top of his snow boots, his narrow hips looking even narrower below the bulk of his down jacket.  The wind ruffles his black hair, his cheeks so rosy with cold that I want to lick them warm.  I desperately need him to notice me as something more than a potato processing drone.

It’s now or never.

“I’m going for a dip,” I yell, when he’s at the other end of the small, curved cove above which the research station sits.14767176_s

If this doesn’t make him sit up and notice, nothing will.

I shed my parka, kick off my boots and slide out of my pants.  I didn’t bring a bikini, so I’m wearing my most presentable matching underwear.  I know it’s going to hurt like hell when I take the plunge, so I can’t afford to pussyfoot at the edge.

I take a low, horizontal dive into the water.

Holy fuck!


My skin is burning.  My fingers and toes are pain like nothing on this earth.  My teeth chatter like a pneumatic drill’s going off in my skull.  Someone’s rubbing warm hands up and down one of my calves, massaging my foot.  Someone’s talking to me.

“Can you hear me now?  Andi, can you hear me?”

I think I nod but I can’t really feel my body.

“What the fuck were you thinking?  You nearly killed yourself.”

I’ve never heard Al this angry, even when I ruined a whole day’s work by putting the oven on extra high instead of low.

“I’m okay,” I say but all I hear is chattering teeth and spluttering noises.

I’m wrapped in fleecy blanket and I look around.  We’re in a bedroom and it isn’t mine.  It must be Al’s.  Underneath the blanket, I realize I’m naked.  I see my underwear in a pool of water on the floor.

My whole body’s trembling and shaking.  Any deliberate movement is completely beyond my control.

“Jesus, I’ve gotta get you warmed up fast,” says Al.

I’m naked on his bed.  I have ideas about getting warm.  At least my brain does; I’m not sure my body is quite there.

“Sh-sh-sh-shared b-b-body heat,” I manage through my teeth.

It’s true – it works.  It’s what they tell you to do in the safety manuals.  It was simply a sensible suggestion that could save my life.  It had nothing to do with the thought of Al having to get naked too and press his hot body against the length of my cold one.

His look says that he knows exactly what I’m playing at.

Silently, he strips off his clothes and joins me on the bed, pulling the fleecy blanket around us and the rest of the bed covers up as far as our shoulders.  He smells good in the confined space.  Yes, a little sweaty.  After all, he did have to pick me up and carry me up the shore and into the station, him fully dressed in a 750 fill power down jacket.  But spicy and masculine in a way that makes me want suck the air around him and drink it up.

I press myself against him and this, I think, is when I finally breach his defenses.  He lets out a long, low moan and wraps his arms tight around me.  His body feels red hot in comparison to mine and, hell, I want to stay just pressed against him like this forever…


Buy it now! Buy it here:

All Romance—you can buy the e-book for the very special price of 69 cents!
Amazon US—Kindle
Amazon US—paperback
Amazon UK



I Hate Sex (and, yes, the moon is made of blue cheese!)


I really can’t tell you how stoked I was to get a DM a few days ago from Rose Caraway, the Sexy Librarian herself! In her private twitter message, she told me that she was going to feature my story, ‘I Hate Sex’, which appears in Violet Blue’s Best Women’s Erotica 2014, on the Kiss Me Quick’s Erotica Podcast today. I’m so thrilled by this. It’s read by the wonderful Lucy Malone who has narrated the  Best Women’s Erotica 2014 audiobook – I’ve just listened to it and I have to say she’s done a really brilliant job.

You want to hear it for yourself? Head over to The Sexy Librarian’s Podcast or click on the link below.

I 8646673_sHate Sex by Tamsin Flowers: Libsyn Player

And because I’m so delighted by this, I’m just going to indulge myself in a little fangirl moment or two! Writing is, as you probably all know, a solitary occupation. I spend long hours grinding out the words on the laptop or scratching them onto the pages of my notebook in the hope that some day, somewhere along the line, a few people will read or hear my words and get something out of them.
However, the getting the words to the people part of the endeavor is anything but solitary. In this case, three amazing people helped to put I Hate Sex on the page and into your ears, so to show my appreciation to them, I want to give them each a little shout out here. If you don’t know about them or the rest of their work, follow some of the links and get acquainted!
Violet Blue is the editor of Best Women’s Erotica 2014 – so a massive thank you to her for picking the story out of her slush pile in the first place. But Violet does so much more than simply edit erotica (and actually, there’s nothing simple about that!) I can’t begin to cover everything she does here, but here’s how she’s been variously described:
‘…one of the 40 bloggers who really count.’ The Times
‘One of the leading figures in tech writing in the world.’ The Guardian
Violet Blue is omnipresent on the web.’ Forbes
America’s leading (very) public intellectual sexologist.’ The Institute for Ethics and Emerging Technologies
You can find her at her blog Violet Blue :: Open Source Sex, on Facebook and Twitter.
Rose Caraway is the Sexy Librarian! Not only does she write, edit and narrate erotica, she creates and narrates the wildly popular Kiss Me Quick’s Erotica Podcast and the Sexy Librarian Blogcast. Rose’s dulcet tones have recruited an ever-growing army of fans – the Lurid Listeners, who are as devoted at they are loyal – and she’s recently celebrated a Number 1 bestselling erotica audio book with her narration of Rachel Kramer Bussel’s Big Book of Orgasms. In September, Rose sees the release of her first erotica anthology for Cleis Press, The Sexy Librarian’s Big Book of Erotica. I’m probably as excited about this as she is, because I have a story in the antho – and I know Rose is planning all sorts of fun for an explosive launch!
Lucy Malone is, for me, a new acquaintance. Lucy has narrated more than 50 erotica audio books, including Violet Blue’s Best Women’s Erotica 2014 from which ‘I Hate Sex’ is taken. I loved hearing her narrate my words and I’m looking forward to listening to a lot more of her work. She blogs at From Lucy’s Lips and you can find her audio books here. And of course, she’s on Facebook and Twitter.
So go check them out!

Pillow Talk Secrets 2 – inside the mind of a hot dom!


Guess what? It’s Pillow Talk day! If you haven’t already come across the Pillow Talk website that I share with the ravishing Jade A Waters and gorgeous Malin James, then skedaddle across there now for a new edition of our ‘Secrets‘ – erotica writers talking dirty. Today we’re reviewing Alison Tyler‘s newest title (blink and she’ll have another one out – talk about prolific!) – Those Boys from Go Deeper Press. Then the discussion moves on to what we look for in a hot fictional dom – and what we don’t…

Here’s a little taster to get you started…

Pillow Talk Secrets 2

Malin: Hello ladies!

Tamsin: Hello Malin, hello Jade!

Jade: And hello to both of you!

M: So, I don’t know about you two, but I’m dying to talk to you both about Those Boys. Should we start there?

T: Absolutely. But before we launch in, we should tell people who might not know this is the second book in Alison Tyler’s series that started with Those Girls – both published by Go Deeper Press.

J: Yes, and that we were fortunate enough to score ourselves an early copy of Those Boys - quite possibly because the Universe is just amazing – and wow are we happy about it!

The gorgeous cover for Those Boys, by Alison Tyler. Courtesy of Go Deeper Press.

The gorgeous cover for Those Boys, by Alison Tyler. Courtesy of Go Deeper Press.

M: It was a really lovely treat. There’s a lot of food for thought in both the first book, and now the second. For those readers who haven’t read the first book yet, let’s do a really quick run-down.

T: No spoilers!

M:  I would never! Okay. Summary not spoilers: it’s told from the POV of a Dom named Sandy. This man is the real deal – a Dom’s Dom. Basically, the novelette is about how he goes about initiating the lovely, slightly stand-offish Vanessa. How’s that?

J: Good – and I want to add this little piece I once read on Alison Tyler’s blog – I can’t remember her exact verbiage, but she said she originally thought Sandy was going to be a she, and then Sandy become this beautifully bisexual Dom. But the key, or the power of Sandy, was that it didn’t matter who he had control over – only that he had that control. The magic is being in his head, because he’s such the Dom’s Dom, as Malin said.

M: And there is magic in his head. You rarely see such a nuanced, authentic portrayal of a dominant in erotica, especially a male dominant, which is a shame.

T: But, I have to admit to a little disappointment with Those Girls, (shock! horror!).

J: What?!

T: Not because it wasn’t brilliant – it was! But it was too damn short! I wanted more. Straight away!

J: Oh well then, in that case…I totally agree.

T: I think Sandy’s character really came into its own, though, in Those Boys. I really got much more of a feel for him – this is a massive development on the first story and with the addition of a new character, Rem, we really get to understand how Sandy’s mind ticks.

I want to read more…


The Scarlet Bond – sink your fangs into this!


It’s here at last – release day for The Scarlet Bond, now exclusively available from Secret Cravings Publishing. This is the second installment in my Vampire Bond trilogy and it picks up the story of newly-minted vampire Willow Jackson where The Crimson Bond left off. Some old favorites return, some new characters literally explode onto the scene and, as usual, there’s plenty of hot vampire sex. I’m so excited about this one – I absolutely love the cover, created for me by the brilliant Dawne Dominique, and I think the two books together look awesome.

Studio shotStudio shotBlurb

On the run after killing clan leader Etienne Corbeau, beautiful young vampire Willow Jackson finds sanctuary in Miami with her lover, Corbeau’s wife Elouise. But their hard-won freedom can’t last—when Elouise is snatched by a rival vampire clan, Willow is forced to confront a terrifying truth. The only chance to retrieve Elouise lies in raising Etienne from the dead. As his killer, she alone can perform the ritual—but how will her former lover, indeed the very man who made her a vampire, react when he’s resurrected?

Forced to seek help from a lover she can’t trust, attacked by a vampire she created and endangering the life of her mentor, Willow is in a race against time to rescue her soul-mate from the evil Rakim Argent and his clan. Friends become enemies, enemies become lovers and as the situation spins out of control, Willow doesn’t know who to trust…


If the sign on the door said closed, the message didn’t appear to have been taken on board inside Nosferatu’s Bar. In flickering candlelight, amid dancing shadows, four bodies entwined, writhing in time to a throbbing beat that threatened to blast the speakers off the wall. Two women and two men caught up in the drunken moment when dancing turns into something else—something purposeful, elemental, which no longer depends on the music for its rhythm.

But Willow Jackson hadn’t drank any alcohol. She had a thirst of a different nature. She sank her teeth into the tan skin at the base of the blond man’s neck, laughing as the first taste of blood bubbled into her greedy mouth. The man bucked and moaned but she distracted him from the pain of her bite by rubbing a hand across the front of his groin. He was well endowed, growing bigger as she touched. A pair of arms encircled her waist from behind. Small, familiar hands undid the top of her leather shorts. Elouise Day, her vampire lover, had already drunk blood from the blond man’s friend—now she turned her attention to Willow’s pleasure.

Weak from blood loss, the blond staggered back onto a banquette, as his friend slumped down onto the beer-spattered floor. Without losing suction on his neck, Willow released his cock from his pants while Elouise helped her out of her shorts. She straddled the man, wet enough to impale herself on his impressive erection with ease—only at the moment of full penetration did she gasp and lose her grip on his throat. Immediately Elouise’s mouth attached to the wound in the man’s neck as she swooped onto the banquette beside them. Bereft of her blood source, Willow scrambled to pull up Elouise’s T-shirt so she could latch onto her lover’s breasts instead. Beneath them, the man grunted, thrusting his hips as Willow pumped up and down on his cock.

She sucked hard on Elouise’s nipples, pulling at them with her teeth in the full knowledge the pain would make her lover bite down harder on the man’s neck. She watched a trail of blood trickle down his chest from where Elouise tore at his flesh as she silenced his scream by placing one of her hands across his mouth. If he’d understood his predicament, he would have had the sense to bite her wrist to suck out as much blood as he could take—a way to grab immortality for himself. But Willow and Elouise were careful who they invited to their after-hours sessions, spiking their victims’ drinks before the bar closed to ensure co-operation. Instead, Willow felt the blond’s back stiffening. He pushed his hips up hard against hers as his most memorable-ever orgasm ripped through him.

When Elouise’s fingers started working on her clit, Willow could feel the burgeoning pleasure of her own orgasm on the horizon. A divine throb that would spread through every nerve and muscle of her body, building and intensifying until she surrendered completely… But on the verge of surrender, a loud splintering crack pulled her back from the brink.

“What the fuck?”

She grabbed Elouise by her short peroxide hair to yank her off the man’s neck. Elouise shrieked, turning to her with a look of fury.

“There’s someone here,” said Willow as Elouise’s anger turned to shock—followed closely by fear.

Together they tumbled off the banquette, leaving the semi-comatose man to slump over to one side, his blood soaking invisibly into the red velvet upholstery.

“It can’t be Etienne, can it?” said Willow, dragging on her shorts.

Elouise shook her head.

“No one can wake Etienne from the dead but you or I.”

But the splintering noise continued, followed by shouts as the outer door gave way and crashed back against the wall. Willow ran to the bar and grabbed a bottle to defend herself with. As she turned back, the inner door burst open. Dark figures poured into the room, but in the flickering candlelight Willow could see the glint of metal. The men were armed with guns and blades. One of them carried a silver stake, making her blood run cold. She backed up until she stood next to Elouise, pressed against the bar.

“There’s no money here,” said Elouise. Her mouth and chin were still red with blood.

Her voice held steady but only because she thought they were being robbed. If she’d seen the stake, Willow knew there would have been a tremor of fear. She grasped Elouise’s wrist. Elouise glanced at her.

“They’re not here for cash.” She nodded toward the man with the stake.

Elouise gasped.

“Very perceptive.” The speaker towered over them, his close-cropped silver hair and shorn black beard making his age hard to determine. “Elouise?”

Elouise’s head jerked up like a puppet on a string.

“Take her,” he barked.

Four men had piled through the door behind him. From their eyes and their demeanor Willow felt sure they were all vampires. With the leader in the center, they stepped forward in unison, guns and machetes raised as they closed in.


Available now at Secret Cravings Publishing

I’m Bound for Trouble!


Seeing Alison Tyler’s post today in which she’s sharing the ToC of her forthcoming Cleis Press anthology, Bound for Trouble, reminded me that I hadn’t even given you a sneaky peek at its ravishing cover yet. I’ve got a story in this amazingly hot collection and I can’t begin to tell you how honored I feel that Alison chose to make it the opening story for the book! (Which means if , like me, you download samples of books onto your Kindle, you’ll get to read my story!) But don’t judge it simply on the basis of my story – take a look at the list of writers Alison’s rounded up and tied down for this bondage extravaganza. I think the whole book’s too hot to handle.

Anyway, here’s the cover and the ToC. Publication date is officially 15 July – but apparently it’s already available on Amazon. And I’ll be posting an excerpt from my story shortly when the blog tour gets underway!



Table of Contents

• Tea or Coffee? by Tamsin Flowers
• Simple Pleasures by Sophia Valenti
• Paper Chains by Annabeth Leong
• Ropenosis by Teresa Noelle Roberts
• I, Robot by Heidi Champa
• Magic Boots by Amy Dillon
• One Rope by Graydancer
• Discovering Her Wrists, Bound by Saskia Walker
• In Her Sights by Kiki DeLovely
• Deeper by Beatrix Ellroy
• Unwinding Alice by Benjamin Eliot
• My Pretty Pony by D.L. King
• Monthly by Vida Bailey
• Doing It By the Book by Tilly Hunter
• Sex Party Magic by Kristy Lin Billuni
• The Other Side of the Ropes by Kathleen Tudor
• Business Wear by K. Lynn
• The Kissing Party by Rachel Kramer Bussel
• That’s Nota  Scrunchie by Giselle Renarde
• Valles Marineris by Laila Blake
• What She Has by Sommer Marsden
• Through the Door by Andrea Dale
• Sitting Pretty by Alison Tyler

Available from Cleis Press, Amazon.com, Amazon UK and all the usual suppliers!