The Hardest Book I’ve Ever Written

So, this title is a bit misleading in that it assumes I’ve “written” the actual book. Let me clarify, this should be “writing” as the particular story has become something of a challenge for me! BUT, I love the story, and I can’t wait to share it with my readers. I love it so much, in fact, that I wouldn’t dream of scrapping it. However, while the story itself is great, my writing of the story was lacking some. Yes, I’ll admit it. 

I’m not going to be giving away even the remotest inkling of what this story is about – well perhaps one hint – it has vampires in it! Beyond that, my lips are sealed! But what I will talk about is what exactly it is that I’m failing so miserably at! Drum roll please…

AGING! This particular story starts with a very dark scene from my heroine’s childhood. It then moves on to her teen years, then skips forward a couple year, and then finally to current time a couple years after that. It’s not epic, but it does show certain scenes throughout my girl’s life that are poignant in some way and, frankly, need to be written for the story to work.

I’ve personally never written from the perspective of a child, and I tend to write with a fairly mature, even eloquent, style while still being blunt and avoiding flowery euphemisms. I’m not tooting my own horn … that’s just my “sound” if one were to analyze it. This “sound” does not bode well with the flow of a child’s thoughts and processes, and it has been a challenge for me to break from this style. I’m now retooling a number of the scenes, and I will tell you it is difficult, because though I’m tackling this problem, I don’t like the new “sound” of my writing. It’s appropriate, and I believe well written for the age of the character, but it doesn’t have my normal flow, and that’s been extremely difficult to diverge from. 

All that said, this has been my most challenging manuscript to write because it has pushed me outside of my comfort zone. But I’m going to say it again, I LOVE THIS STORY… And I promise, I will share it with you soon. 

Elizabeth Finn is a contemporary erotic romance author. To read more of her heroines, check out her two recent releases, The Devil’s Pawn and Brother’s Keeper. Visit Elizabeth at ElizabethFinnFiction.com or email her at ElizabethFinn77@gmail.com – she’d love to hear from you!    

When Ashton is left orphaned after her parents are murdered, her life becomes a hell she could never have imagined. Left to fend for herself, and responsible for a debt she doesn’t owe, she is swept into a life as a gentleman’s escort at a private men’s gaming hall. Her new manager makes it abundantly clear he doesn’t appreciate her inexperience, innocence, and shyness. On the contrary, he despises everything about her.

Derek can be “difficult,” she’s been told. And however dark and handsome he may be, he terrifies her in a way that chills her to the bone, but leaves her begging to understand him. As they are pulled along together, more secrets and threats than either one could ever conceive are revealed, and a common enemy emerges. This enemy will stop at nothing to bring Derek to his knees while using Ashton as the greatest pawn in his torturous game.

Will Derek be able to let down his shield of cold, harsh emotion before it’s too late? Will he be able to sacrifice himself to save Ashton, or will they both be destroyed by the secrets of their pasts?

About the Author:

 Elizabeth Finn is an Iowa native, where she lives with her husband and son. By day, Elizabeth is a Human Resources Specialist, but by night, she checks her professionalism at the door and immerses herself in the world of writing erotic romance. Look for more to come from Elizabeth Finn.

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Excerpt:

Once in the fitting room, Derek takes the chair again while I start to remove my clothes. I intentionally wore ugly, stretched-out, white cotton underwear that is entirely too big on me in the event he should be here. My mouth isn’t the only thing that can get me into trouble—my sarcasm knows no bounds when I’m unhappy.

As he sees the appalling excuse for an undergarment, his eyes move up to mine, narrowing darkly at my obvious defiance. I look coolly back at him before looking away dismissively. My anger and resentment of him from the humiliation he subjected me to the previous morning, not to mention his treatment of me over the past two weeks, have charged me into a bold, fiery bitch that no longer cares what retribution I might face. While my tongue usually gets me in trouble, today I decided to let my underwear do the talking.

Jacob enters with an armful of dresses for me to try on, and he cringes as he takes in my defiant granny panties, hated the world over by men, including, apparently, gay men.

He turns to Derek, and with a scrunched-up face, he worries out loud. “The dresses aren’t going to lay right over those…” He tosses a nod in my general direction.

Derek wastes no time at all reassuring Jacob and striking back at me. “No worries. Ashton was just taking them off. She won’t be wearing underwear anymore.”

I glare defiantly back at him as I drop the loose fabric to the floor. He returns the glare for a moment before letting his gaze travel down my body to my sex, and as it lands there, smoldering with heat, I turn abruptly from him, intentionally showing him my backside instead. I look to the mirror in front of me, and I catch his eyes flit away from me in annoyance. He worries his lip with his thumb and index finger as he contemplates, and the slightest of smirks crosses over his mouth. Jacob is standing by looking from one to the other of us, obviously wondering just exactly what he’s gotten himself in the middle of.

Derek finally looks back to Jacob. “Get on with it.”

I try on one after the other of the dresses. Some are perfect; Jacob pins in additional alterations in others. Derek sits by bored, only glancing up from his cell phone occasionally. One such occasion is when Jacob remarks that I’m “just not curvy enough for this one.”

Derek looks up to Jacob, but he shifts his eyes to mine before commenting, “Yes, well, if you can figure out some way of making her look female, you let me know.”

Jacob again lets his eyes pass between us, seeming to wonder all the while what he’s missing. As I hold Derek’s eyes with my own, my anger falters, and the pain that is behind my fury pushes through. I try to wrangle my tears into submission, but it’s no use. In defeat, first one, and then another spills from my eyes and slides down my cheeks. Jacob regards my state and excuses himself from the room.

I stand on the hemming block in the center of the room, refusing to look at Derek. But he’s looking at me, and as my hurt continues to work through my entire body, I let my tongue do what it does best. “Why do you hate me so much?”

He says nothing, but stands and moves to me. Reaching around behind me, he pulls the zipper of the dress down, and then, returning his hands to my shoulders, he pulls the straps down, exposing first my small breasts, and then the rest of my naked body as it falls to the floor.

He leans in to my ear and speaks. “You don’t know anything about me.” He then takes me by the hand and pulls me to stand in front of the mirror, and leaning to my ear once more as I watch him in the mirror, he speaks gently. “Lean forward and put your palms on the mirror.”

Book Spotlight-Go with the Flo

Nineties girl Florence Spring joined Avon to find her Edward Scissorhands but instead needs to rescue his porno alter ego.

When Florence notices her eccentric ex-boyfriend, Eddie, isn't putting on his usual show in the front window on Friday night she decides to investigate.  She asks her best friend, Nelson Tyler, to help but he seems more interested in seducing Florence than in finding her personal flasher. Florence has no idea when she embarks on the adventure she will accidentally shoot an undercover policeman, or that her actions will lead to Nelson's kidnapping.  Now with two men missing she has no choice but to continue and thwart the plans of a psychotic soon to be divorcee.  She needs to rescue Nelson because life without him is unbearable, especially since she's discovered his long sensitive fingers are far more erotic than scissorhands.

Buy Links: Amazon / All Romance Ebooks / Liquid Silver Books

About the Author:

Born and bred in the UK, my whole life was turned on its head when, at the tender age of eighteen, I met and fell instantly in love with my darling husband.  I knew the minute I met him I was going to marry him and, fortunately, he came to the same conclusion less than six months later.

My husband has shown me the world, starting by bringing me to Australia.  The country we now call home, and where we have raised our two boys. It didn’t take me long to turn native, becoming a citizen and dropping the British accent. However, our wanderlust didn’t stop there. We have moved from state to state, always ready for a new adventure.  We have also visited  many destinations around the world.

My stories reflect my love for travel and exotic locations, along with my quirky British sense of humor. Well, you can’t give up all of your heritage now can you?

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Excerpt:

Florence Spring trudged down another empty street. A bag full of lipstick, foundation, eye shadow, and all manner of items designed to make a girl of the nineties a sight to behold, swung from her shoulder. The tote banged against her hip, aggravating an already aching bruise. Even though drizzle soaked her face, she resisted the urge to wipe it off. She knew it was her duty to represent the products she sold to the best of her ability. The handbook for sales 101 read, better to appear damp, than smudged.

This wasn’t how she’d envisioned life as an Avon representative. Where was her dark castle? Her mysterious hero? When would she find a beautiful man with a penchant for leather and rubber? She joined up to find her Edward Scissorhands. The closest she’d come was his porno alter ego, Edward Penishands.

If Eddie Cain wiggled his dick in his front room window one more time as she walked past, she would take the gold-handled nail scissors, on special this week for two dollars with any order over twenty dollars, and snip the little worm off. Bad enough she’d gone out with him once—once, and only once. The relationship had been doomed from the start. After his mother died, Eddie became most odd. Their one date had confirmed her belief that he was strange.

Snuggled together upstairs at the back of the number forty-six bus, he had whispered that he would like to handcuff her to his bed and whip her with a riding crop. She hadn’t even had a chance to answer before he let out a low moan and spontaneously ejaculated, leaving a noticeable stain on the front of his gray gabardine pants. She’d graciously lent him her jacket to carry in front of him as they climbed from the bus and entered the movie theatre. When he unzipped his fly and pulled the worm free at the first on-screen kiss, she excused herself and fled. She never did ask for her jacket back. It was her favorite too, genuine faux leather and fur. Never mind. She doubted even the dry cleaners would have been able to get the spunk stain out.

Cautiously, she approached number ninety-two Stoffer Street. The curtains hung open, however the front window stood bare. Eddie appeared to be out. She checked her watch. Bang on time. Eight p.m. as usual. She passed by every Friday night. He lived on the most direct route from her allotted sales patch to Nelson’s house. Eddie always waited for her. This time of the year he was usually silhouetted by the living room light. He’d never missed an opportunity to wiggle his wanger at her before. As much as she hated to admit it, she missed the little bugger; the wanger, not Eddie. She needed a good laugh after the dismal sales she usually mustered and Eddie always managed to add some element of humor to the whole sordid show. If only he learned to do the comedy act without the nudity he could take his show on the road. Of course, he could take it on the road with the striptease if he wanted to appeal to a whole other audience.

Truth be told, seeing him semi-naked once a week was, she suspected, the closest either of them had come to dating lately. If only she could find her prince charming, all dark, mysterious and quiet. She had a thing for silent movies. Everyone knew men of few words were sexy. You could imagine all sorts going on in their heads. Plans to show you the world, slay dragons, and win your heart. No one wanted to deal with the truth of them wondering if your boobs were real or if you had tissues stuffed in your bra, or calculating how long it would take them to wrestle you out of your underwear.

With a shrug, Florence tugged her jacket collar up in a feeble attempt to protect herself from the steady precipitation. She hated winter. Every year her mother reminisced about her childhood in England, telling Florence about the huge family Christmases they had which broke up the long cold months. Nothing happened in winter in New South Wales. Florence only had her mother’s secondhand memories of chocolate box celebrations. Although, Grandma Wilson did her best to break up the monotony of endless gray days with her Christmas in June party. Florence recalled the last outrageous family event only six weeks ago. What had that been beneath the mistletoe with Nelson? She shivered, even though she wasn’t cold. She needed to push that memory right out of her head before she reached her destination.

With a dismissive toss of her head, just in case he was watching, she left Eddie to his own sordid devices and continued on her way—her ego a little deflated. Even the local flasher had lost interest.

She turned the corner and a feeling of contentment swept over her. Her best friend Nelson’s home was her bolt-hole from reality, away from her parents and the madness at her house. The small, rundown, two-bed town house might look in need of TLC to some. To her it stood out as an oasis in a horrible sales jungle. A lamp lit vision shrouded in mist. The tiny house was a cottage by the sea, a cozy little shack in the woods, anything her imagination fancied.

Not bothering to knock, she turned the handle and stepped inside. A blast of motor oil and male musky-scented air greeted her, along with Nelson’s cat, Killer. She lifted the undersized ginger fur ball to her face and rubbed him against her cheek, giggling at his loud purr. He waited for her every week, as did Nelson. She always popped in to warm up before he escorted her home.

A shout came from the kitchen. “That you, Squirt?”

She put the cat down and dropped her heavy bag on the side table. After tugging off her sodden woolen gloves and damp jacket, she tossed them on the banister to dry.

“Yeah, it’s only me.”

She secured the front door so Killer couldn’t escape, and sauntered the length of the threadbare carpeted hallway, glancing at the shiny new bolt and padlock on the basement door. She stopped on the threshold of the kitchen and stared at the vision before her.

Nelson glanced up from where he was kneeling on the floor. His eyes were hidden by his tousled dark hair. A huge grin spread across his face. “Hot chocolate’s by the stove.”

She stared at the red and polished chrome monster currently taking up half the floor space. “What are you doing?”

Male Review with Lillian Grant

1-Tell the readers a little about yourself.

I grew up in the UK but emigrated to Australia after meeting and marrying my lovely husband. I love to travel and see the world.  When I am not writing I have an uptight and hectic day job. Creating romantic stories whether it be suspense or comedy is my escape to another world.

2-As an author, do you take time to read? If so, what do you like to read and who is/are your favorite author/s?

I love to read and have very strange taste in books. My all time favourite book is The Rum Diary by Hunter S. Thompson. I am also rabidly devouring JD Robb’s In Death Series and JR Ward’s Blackdagger Brotherhood books. I also have a soft spot for Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum books…the grandma is to die for and Ranger isn’t too bad either. 

3-How do you stay motivated when the Muse is uncooperative?

I threaten to tie them up and beat them!  Only kidding. My muse changes with each book. It’s usually one of the characters. If it stops working for me I turn to my crit partner and she usually points out they stopped talking to me because I have taken the character in a direction they would never go.

4-If you could go anywhere in the world on a romantic getaway, what would you do and where would you go?

Hmm.  I am tempted to say Paris because I just love it but there are some gorgeous private tropical islands off the coast of tropical north Queensland in Australia. I would spend my days swimming, drinking long tall cocktails and laying in a hammock with my lovely hubby. 

5-What is the hardest thing for you to write?

The middle of the story is a real trial. I don’t plot I just have a vague idea in my head. I love to write to see what is going to happen next, and sometimes what happens is a complete surprise. However, by the time I get about thirty thousand words in I have an idea of where I am going to end the book. The combination of knowing what is going to happen next and the angst about how to get there, and will I have enough words once I do, makes writing feel like swimming in molasses.

6-If you could live the life of one of your characters who would you be?

Good question. I would probably choose to be Charlene from Speak to Me of Abduction because she gets the hot Hollywood movie star along with his bank balance and super yacht.  I love the ocean so having your own boat and a crew to sail it would be my kind of heaven. 

7-The tag line on my blog is ‘Indulge Your Inner Romantic.’ What do you do to indulge?

I love to eat strawberries with chocolate sauce and cream in bed, and I never eat alone 

Sam Stephens and Meg Riley are in love, and finally on the cusp of sex anytime, anywhere, anyhow. That is until Meg’s Great Aunt Maud, the octogenarian nymphomaniac, gets tossed out of the old folk’s home and moves in with them, closely followed by her polar opposite, Meg’s scarily frigid mother.

Meg’s best friend Laura convinces Aunt Maud to invest in Male Review, a BDSM-themed male strip joint. For Meg, it’s just one more step along the path to disaster, made even worse when former prostitute Michael is hired as the bar manager. After all, Laura’s last venture ended with Meg being arrested as a pimp. And Michael’s to blame for the crazies invading Meg’s home, and even worse, he still has the hots for her.

If she wants to get her life back, all Meg needs to do is find a new home for Maud, resolve the dispute between her warring parents, keep Michael at arm’s length, and rescue her relationship with Sam before it disintegrates completely. Male Review appears to be just one more problem to deal with, but perhaps it could provide an unexpected solution.

Buy Links: Liquid Silver Books / All Romance Ebooks / Amazon / Fictionwise

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Excerpt: Chapter One

Meg rolled her eyes as a loud snort rent the air. She lifted her head, smashed a fist into her pillow, and glared at the comatose old woman lying next to her. This wasn’t how things were supposed to work out. Once Sam declared his undying love for her they should have ridden off into the sunset together. Instead, they jumped into her compact Korean car and hustled around to the old folk’s home to meet her mother.

Clearly it wasn’t her fault that St. Andrew’s had tossed Aunt Maud out. The whole disaster had been down to Laura and her stupid idea to start a male escort business. Meg went to the hotel to try and fix things. Given a few more minutes she would have un-cuffed Michael Monaghan from the bed and persuaded Aunt Maud elderly ladies had no need to use the services of a male prostitute. She might even have recovered Michael’s clothes so he could get dressed. Thank God her mother arrived at the old people’s home after the police left and she never got the whole story behind Maud’s eviction. Although, having her mother yell and show disappointment in her debauched daughter might have been a quicker and less painful punishment than agreeing to let Aunt Maud move in with her and Sam until she found a new home. To date, every old people’s home in Sydney, Australia had turned the crazy old lady away.

Meg’s mind turned to her new beau. They’d been on the cusp of sex any which way, anywhere, any time, and then, when Aunt Maud showed up, the sex fest was over. She couldn’t sleep in his bed because Maud would know what they were doing and Meg would be horribly embarrassed. How was he coping? Sam had needs. Big needs. Often needs. She hadn’t heard yips of “yee-haw” coming from his room since Aunt Maud moved in a month ago, so either he was suffering from a case of blue balls, or he’d learned to jack off quietly. The thought of him lying in his reclining chair naked with his fist wrapped around his hard, hot, heaving cock sent a heat wave through her body and a definite dampening in areas that had no business being damp when you shared a bed with your eighty-something great aunt.

Another loud snarl made Meg sigh loudly and check her alarm clock. She hadn’t planned on getting up until after eight as, on top of everything else, she didn’t have a job to go to, but sleep was impossible. Maybe an early morning snack would help. Yes, she was on a diet, but everyone knew calories consumed before seven in the morning didn’t count. Besides, she might check out the gym where Sam worked later, purely for exercise purposes. The thought of Sam and exercise wouldn’t cool her down, but Ben & Jerry were more than up to the job.

She climbed out of bed and dragged on her robe. One last look at Sleeping Beauty, sans teeth and wig, assured her Maud was dead to the world and she should get going while the getting was good. The door squeaked on its hinges, but Aunt Maud continued to saw logs. Meg pulled the bedroom door closed behind her and relaxed. In the last thirty days the only time she’d been without Maud was when either of them went to the bathroom. Except the hour she left her with Sam while she went to buy groceries. That hadn’t ended so well. She’d found Sam’s whimpering and begging never to be left alone with Maud again quite disturbing. The old girl seemed to think men were game for sex twenty-four seven, and Sam usually was, but not with octogenarians who had a penchant for pinching butts and ripping towels off freshly showered men.

Meg crept down the hall, through the living room, and into the kitchen. The place shone. No one would fault Maud on her work ethic. She had cracked the whip for hours, only stopping her nagging when Meg had cleaned every surface until they could eat off it. So, she was a bit slap dash about housework, and Sam was no better, but who cared. Now the place didn’t feel like home at all.

After retrieving a large spoon from the cutlery drawer, Meg opened the freezer and bent over to find her favorite flavor made by her favorite men. Just as she reached inside to pull out a tub of Chunky Monkey, two hands splayed across her back and something rigid buried itself in her arse crack.

She’d recognize Sam’s particular brand of foreplay anywhere. He had a thing about bending her over and taking her from behind, but she wasn’t so hot on the idea with her head buried in the freezer and Maud likely to walk in at any moment. The old lady would never believe she had a platonic relationship with Sam if she found him buried up to his testicles inside Meg. Once her mother found out she had taken up sleeping with her male flat mate Meg would be moved into a nunnery, or Sam tossed out on his ear before either of them had a chance to explain. Her mother didn’t do sex, and neither did the rest of the family, if she had anything to say about it.

*

God, Meg was beautiful. How she could think otherwise escaped him. The sight of her abundant curves sent Sam’s already thumping pulse rate higher. Unable to believe his luck at finding her alone, and in such a seductive pose, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her still bent form. He slipped his hands inside the front of her robe. The fingers of his left hand edged inside her panties on a seek-and-plunder mission between her thighs, while he used his right hand to tweak her left nipple into surrender.

Maud was a pain in the arse. All his good work at not only finally seducing Meg, but getting her to lose her inhibitions, was coming unraveled. He missed her. His cock missed her. The bed felt empty when she wasn’t in it. Never before had he felt this way about a woman, but Meg was the one. He’d fallen hopelessly and passionately in love with her and he wanted to show her … hard and often.

Heat spread through his body. Oh, she felt so good. He fingered the dampness between her thighs and brushed his thumb over her nipple. Her breast was heavy in his hand. Her womanly curves sent a rush of desire straight to his already straining dick. She was his perfect wet dream. Warm, soft, and the girl had a mouth to die for, but that could wait for next time. He had no idea when he would get another opportunity like this. He growled in her ear and tugged her robe up the back of her legs, desperate to bury himself inside her.

“Sam. Stop!”

She wriggled out of his grasp and he groaned his disappointment. His stallion bucked at the gate waiting for the starter’s orders. The feisty bugger would put an eye out if it broke free of his very tight white boxer briefs.

He took a deep breath. “I’m dying here.”

Meg glanced at his bulging erection.

“We can’t. Maud might come through.”

Sam growled, “Fuck Maud.”

A giggle escaped Meg. “I’m sure she’d be a more than willing partner and at least you could get some relief.” She popped the top off the ice cream and filled the spoon. Maybe she hoped the cool dessert would bring them both back to their senses. She offered him the first taste. “Here, have some ice cream instead.”

He took the spoon from her and slipped it seductively between his lips then pulled it back out and slowly licked the remaining dessert from the stainless steel surface. The way she licked her lips and swallowed showed his actions were getting the desired reaction. Encouraged, Sam reached out, took the tub, and refilled his spoon. He leaned forward and brushed his ice cream cooled lips against hers as he whispered, “Coming?”

Meg squeaked out, “Not yet,” then followed him as he disappeared through the house.

Pineapple: Your P*ssy’s Best Friend

I'm so pleased to have the lovely Dahlia DeWinters at Decadent Decisions today. She's brought her with her a great post I'm sure will please.

W. Lynn, thanks so much for hosting me!

Readers, take a seat, kick off  your shoes and have a glass of iced pineapple juice.  I’ll tell you why in a minute, okay? 

photo courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net 

Every woman has heard the old joke about the blind man walking past the fish market and remarking “Hello, ladies.”  I’m sure there are more jokes out there about the way  pussy tastes or smells, and because they are jokes, the intimation is that the normal pussy smells and/or tastes bad and that’s why most men don’t like going down on a woman. Pshaw.

“Home in three days…don’t wash!”  - a missive supposedly sent to Josephine from Napoleon, proof of which I cannot find anywhere on the Internet.  But it’s fun to say, right? Perhaps Napoleon liked his pussy on the more fragrant side.

 As a teenager, my mother scarred me permanently by advising me to drink loads of water after eating tuna fish or salmon because “first you smell like fish, THEN you smell like fish.”  But she was right.  Whatever you consume will come out of you in one form or another.

Whatever the myths may be, let’s leave them behind in our quest for a tastier quim.  Given good hygiene, there are a few more steps you can take in order to sweeten the offering:

Avoid large amounts of junk food, garlic, onions.  Ever have that persistent garlic breath after eating spaghetti, that taste in your mouth that won’t go away?  Well, your pussy is probably feeling the same way, except the taste and/or smell will be in your partner’s mouth.

Stay away from smoking, too much alcohol and strongly spiced and/or fatty foods.  That Big Mac with large fries and a soda on a daily basis is eventually going to tell on you.  

Eat plenty of fruits, especially pineapple, melons, mango, and hold for cheap joke here, cherries.  These sweet fruits freshen your breath upstairs and down. Drinking fruit juices will also help.

Drink plenty of water.  This is a good thing for our bodies in general and one that we sometimes forget to do.  Water dilutes bodily secretions and helps to flush the toxins out. 

Try some of these tips to make your honey pot as mouth-watering as possible.

A note of caution:    Do not stick any fruits in your vagina.  You may experience an allergic reaction.

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The Wisest Maiden is a fantasy fairy tale that is inspired by the One Thousand Arabian Nights story:

After she is forced into marriage with a powerful ruler who deflowers and kills his brides, Issalia is compelled to use her wits to avoid the executioner’s axe. But can she avoid having her heart captured by the deeply wounded king?

Excerpt from The Wisest Maiden:

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For the next few days, Issalia took close instruction from Amina on proper etiquette during the wedding feast, the ritual wedding night dance, and consumed a strict diet of only fresh fruit, light pastries, vegetables, and rice. When Issalia inquired during a noontime meal why she was on such a diet, “Surely the king doesn’t think I need to lose weight?” Amina actually blushed and gave her the answer in a bashful whisper. “It’s so your … taste is pleasing to the king.”

“Taste?” She brought her cup of water to her mouth and then paused, her face becoming hot. “Oh. Taste.” An erotic thrill passed through her body as she imagined the king’s mouth and lips on her most intimate flesh. She sipped at the water in an attempt to cool her body’s temperature, for a light coating of perspiration had blossomed on her skin, although the dining area was shaded. It was strange that she would have such feelings for a man who meant to kill her. After she replaced her cup, she selected an especially large piece of sweet mango. “Then I shall not disappoint His Majesty,” she said before she devoured the fruit in three bites.

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****Giveaway Alert****

Thank you, everyone for helping me to celebrate my new release. Leave a comment below to be entered in a drawing for two – 2 oz bottles of fragrant body oil, great for massage and more.  Winner will be chosen August  31, 2012.