I want to apologize for the lack of new blogs these last few weeks. I lost my father at the end of April and my focus was elsewhere. Regular blog posts and guest posts will be back to normal this week ❤
I’m pleased to welcome Lynn Burke back to the blog with her latest release 🙂
*Warning: physical and verbal abuse triggers, bondage
Beaten and broken, Becky’s tattered heart yearns for what could be, and while Daniel’s strength proves a pillar of support, she must find the courage within to escape a murderous monster—before it’s too late.
I entered the lounge to find the dimmed area already packed. Every stool at the bar along the right was taken, and the groupings of chairs and couches scattered around the room held parties in full-on fun mode.
Naked flesh. Blowjobs. The sounds of asses being tanned—and fucked—filtered through the soft music drifting down from overhead.
One new couple caught my attention. Arrogance oozed from the wiry Dom as he stared at a woman getting her ass handed to her. His unimpressive hard-on ridged the front of his leather pants. A single rose tattoo inked his arm.
The voluptuous, dark-haired woman on the leash behind him … wide hips, thick thighs that would be gorgeous wrapped in rope, huge bare breasts with large, soft nipples.
Not an exhibitionist or voyeur…
She didn’t follow her Sir meekly as he walked around. She cowered behind him.
An insecure and co-dependent, with a Dom who took advantage of her quiet nature, my gut told me, sending a tingle of anger down my spine. I stepped off to the side and watched as he led her around the room. They drew near, and I forced myself to keep my gaze on her rather than the prick leading her around like a dog.
“How about this?” the wiry man chuckled, drawing her forward to the ménage scene on the couch to my left. “Double penetration. Two cocks shoved so far up your dry cunt you can’t remember your name?” He laughed again, and the woman trembled, her hands sneaking down to cover the thatch of black hair hiding her pussy.
My fist itched to break Wiry’s nose, the first hint of violence I’d felt in years.
“Well?” Wiry asked, yanking on her lead rope when she didn’t answer. “Does this turn that frigid, fat body of yours on?”
“Goddamnit, Becky.” Wiry strode off, pulling her behind him. “The fuck is wrong with you?”
Tearing my gaze off her swaying, lush ass, I swore. Striding across the lounge didn’t lessen my anger, and I continued on with my cussing through the guarded door leading to the private rooms and down the carpeted hall. I wasn’t prone to violence, but if those two were taking the bondage class, I was in deep shit.
“Not my monkey, not my circus,” I muttered while pushing open the door to the private room Chantelle had set up for classes. “Don’t get involved.”
Adrenaline laced my bloodstream, but my hands held steady while rifling through the supplies of silk and hemp rope that had been laid out. A few basic knots, I thought, trying to focus on the task ahead of me. I pulled a chair onto the stage, positioning it on a side angle from where my small audience would sit.
Ask for a volunteer, Chantelle had said. I snorted. I highly doubted I’d get away without having to talk someone into sitting on the chair while their spouse or partner watched.
“Hopefully, one of the new Doms won’t mind sharing for an hour,” I muttered to myself.
Or, my conscious whispered, maybe Wiry and Becky will be in the class, and you can ask her to join you on stage. Show her what a real Dom is like.
I shook my head.
Not. Getting. Involved.
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.
I’ve mentioned a few times last year that I was struggling to find my writing groove, and that I’d had so many releases in 2016 (six of which were within a two month period!) that I felt a bit burned out. I wrote here and there, and each time I hoped that I’d worked through what was getting in my way. Ghosts of Midsummer Theatre did break that long period of no progression, but then I had surgery and the recovery time was longer than I thought it would be. Between the pain, the meds, and the adjusting to life after surgery, I lost the groove again *sigh*
However, I am happy to report that I’ve broken through that post-surgery rut and the words are again flowing. I’m just writing what is coming to me and not forcing anything at this point. I’m just letting it flow and enjoy the writing again 🙂 What am I writing? I’ll let you in on one of the projects I’m working on.
Revenant Investigations book five, which features two new characters to the series (no worries, our favorite Revenant investigators make an appearance). I will also tell you that the lead female character is the new medium that Folger has finally hired.
It feels so good to be writing again, to have the creativity alive and well. This year is going to be very productive at this rate!
Happy New Year, my lovely readers!!!
I want to thank each and every one of you for reading my books and sticking with me as I struggled through the rough patches. You all keep me writing and I really cannot thank you enough ❤ The winner of the giveaway has been chosen and contacted- look for more giveaways in the future!
I wish you all a happy, healthy 2018 ❤ ❤ ❤
Hello everyone! I’m pleased to welcome Allyson Young to the blog with her newest release 🙂
first heat. Traumatized by early misunderstandings of shifter sexuality, River
intends to avoid being claimed at all cost. She doesn’t plan on meeting
handsome, virile Alpha Jett Reeves.
trigger her heat and force her sexual surrender, despite her tangible—and
unlawful—means of avoidance.
accept Jett past his ability to assuage her sexual need and falls in love with
him. Unable to label his myriad of feelings, Jett doesn’t reciprocate, and she
is devastated, realizing she is locked in a lifelong, loveless partnership.
Jett must face the fact that what he felt for River all along was love—and find
a way to bring her back to him.
sixth floor in near silence, the eddies of lust making the small space nearly
insufferable for him, and his mate leaned against the wall as though she might
slip to the floor any moment. Her brow and temples glistened with sweat and her
fingers twitched spasmodically. She was coming into her full heat and fighting
it all the way.
opened, he strode in the direction the small arrow indicated and found the room
within several yards. The key card gave them entrance and he flicked on the
light. He shoved the cases just inside the door, blocking the heavy panel with
his forearm so it wouldn’t close. “In you go, River.”
despite the trembling of her entire body. His heart ached at her trepidation
despite the all-encompassing lust he experienced. Her head down, intense need
radiating to pull him in, he threw the deadbolt, and then gave in to what their
her thick mane, his fingers weaving among the long, silky strands just as he’d
fantasized, he drew her head back and forced her to look him in the eyes. Hers
were dilated, the rich brown irises nearly eclipsed by the stark black of her
pupils. Square, white teeth clenched her full bottom lip, presumably to control
panting, because she drew draughts of air in through her nose. He could detect
the threads of resignation weaving through her vast need, her intense heat
rapidly eclipsing any coherent thought. Regret that he’d caused this once again
pierced his own narrowly shrinking focus—but only briefly. He lowered his head
and took her mouth.
senses at his first taste, and he groaned against her full lips even as his
tongue made a foray past them. River totally surrendered, as female wolves do
when they met their fated mate, and he barely had time for that thought—fated
mate—before he wrapped an arm around her limp form. Two steps and they fell
to the big bed, the mattress compressing beneath their combined weight as he
ravished her mouth. She opened to let him in and gave up all the flavor that
was uniquely her.
to rear up and shred the plain shirt that hid her from his view. Her lightly
tanned skin filled his vision as her utilitarian bra met the same fate, and he
noted with pleasure how modest her tan lines were. His wolf rose up. Mine. The
growling claim resounded in the room and her eyes fluttered open and she
blinked. Behind the thicket of her dark lashes, a sexual haze again blurred the
rich chocolate, and her lids drifted shut.
another, their coming together could be slowed and savored, but for now, he
needed to visibly establish his claim. His frantic cock shuddered in agreement
as he demolished the tough denim of her jeans, taking care not to score her
soft skin with a claw.
gaze drawn to the soft, pale fur at her apex, he willed his other-self back,
and his claws retracted. Lord knew what she’d seen when she’d stared up at him.
Probably a wild-eyed beast intent on its succulent prey, and he
blessed the Mother and the mating heat that River hadn’t screamed in fear. Only
an alpha could partially shift, and it was unlikely she’d seen one in such a
quickly stripped and then blanketed his mate’s writhing form. Velvety
flesh met his own in a haze of heat and sensation.
and all the more evocative because of it.
worked in the human services all across Canada and has seen the best and worst of what people bring to the table. Allyson has written for years, mostly short stories and poetry, published in small newspapers and the like, although her work appeared in her high school yearbooks too! After reading an erotic
romance, quite by accident, she decided to try her hand at penning erotica. Allyson will write until
whatever she has inside her is satisfied- when all the heroes man up and all the heroines get what they deserve. Love isn’t always sweet, and Allyson favours the darker side of romance.