Showing posts with label Writer Marketing Services. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writer Marketing Services. Show all posts

Sunday, 1 May 2016

Cover Reveal - The Tutor by K D Grace

Sometimes it Sizzles When Things Go Pear-shaped

The Tutor Cover Reveal


Preorder: 30th August
Early Download (on the TB website): 13th September
General Release: 11th October

K D talks about the tutor.

I've been barely able to contain myself this past two weeks, just bursting to tell you the good news, and now at last I can. Not only can I tell you that my steamy contemporary romance novel, The Tutor, has been snapped up by the Totally Entwined imprint of Totally Bound, but I can now reveal the gorgeous cover which sizzles with the creative genius of Emmy Ellis.

The Tutor has a very special place in my heart because it had its beginnings last October at Smut Manchester during Kay Jaybee's wonderfully wicked "trip to the supermarket" workshop on inspiration. We were all given an item from the supermarket shelf and told we'd been called over the loudspeaker to go to the stockroom. From that we were to write the beginnings of a story about what we'd find in the stockroom and what we'd do with our item in said stockroom. I still remember the smug little smirk on Ms. Jaybee's face when she handed me the slip of paper that read A tin of pears in heavy syrup.  I never imagined in my wildest dreams that before the weekend was out, I'd have the seeds for a novel that just had to be written. In fact, it needed to be written so badly that I signed up for NaNoWriMo -- National Novel Writing Month in November and wrote the whole 95K in one month!  Here's just a taste of the end result. Enjoy!

Blurb:
Struggling writer, Kelly Blake has a secret life as a sex tutor. Celebrated sculptor and recluse, Alexander ‘Lex’ Valens, can’t stand to be touched. When he seeks out Kelly’s advice incognito, the results are too hot to handle. When Kelly terminates their sessions due to what she considers her unprofessional behavior, Lex takes a huge risk, revealing his identity to her at a gala exhibition, his first ever public appearance. When Kelly helps the severely haphephobic Lex escape the grope of reporters and paparazzi, rumors fly that the two are engaged, rumors encouraged by well-meaning friends and colleagues. The press feeding frenzy forces Kelly into hiding at Lex’s mansion where he convinces her to be his private tutor just until the press loses interest, and she can go back home. They discover quickly that touch is not essential for sizzling, pulse-pounding intimacy. But intimacy must survive the secrets uncovered as their sessions become more and more personal.

Excerpt:

“Was this your idea or Dillon’s? Kelly asked, hoping to relax him.
“It was mine, after Andy told Dillon and he told me. I thought it was something that I …” The muscles along Lex’s jaw looked as though they were made out of iron, and a fine blush crawled up his neck tinting his ears bright pink. “I’ve never touched a woman … in that way.” He forced a laugh. “Obviously. I’ve …” the blush deepened and he avoided her gaze. “I’ve put lube on some of the sculptures – you know -- down there, but I … well it isn’t the same.”
“The pears won’t be either,” she said, her heart suddenly aching at the physical isolation this man endured on a daily basis, and it wasn’t just her heart that ached, she felt his lack deep in her core. It had been easier with Andy. She had been almost flippant with him. She was sorry for that now. She spread one of the towels on the Queen Anne chair across from him and settled herself onto it so they were facing each other. “The texture will be different and with the pear there’ll be less give.” She dipped her fingers in the bowl and rubbed the heavy juice between her index finger and her thumb. “If you touch a woman, she’ll be much warmer.” She gave him a conspiratorial smile. “You’ll be amazed at how warm and how soft she’ll be down there when she’s ready to be touched. With Andy, this,” she nodded down to the pears, “was improvisation, this was the best I could do under the circumstances, but a woman, well a woman feels like nothing you’ve ever touched before.”
He was no longer avoiding her gaze. His eyes were locked on her, and he was struggling to keep them on her face, she knew that; she understood the urge for him to drop his eyes to the place of which she spoke, the place with which she was so intimate, the place that couldn’t help but respond to the topic, to the situation, to the strange intimacy they had shared almost since the moment they’d met. “You can look, if you want,” she opened her legs so that he could see the place in between clothed in black denim, completely disguised and yet so very obvious. “And I’ll look at you too,” she nodded down to his own jeans straining to contain him already. “It’s what men and woman are naturally inclined to do when there’s a sexual attraction.”
With her heart hammering in her throat, she took one of the pear halves into the cupped palm of her left hand, then she brought it down between her spread thighs, feeling the juice of it run over her fingers and drip onto the towel as she spread her legs a little farther and held her pam to mimic the position of her vulva. “Touch it like a woman would touch it, and you’ll always get it right.” She drug her index and middle finger up from the bottom of the pear to the center and felt her own body respond in empathy. “The pear has no folds, no secret valleys, no swollen flesh to be teased open, so you’ll have to use your imagination with that.”
Lex gave a little moan soft and deep in his chest as he shifted to make himself more comfortable. “I know the anatomy,” he said. “I’ve watched porn and I’ve studied drawings. I know how it looks like it might feel. I know the response it elicits.” His tongue flicked nervously over his upper lip. “Of course that’s just acting, isn’t it?”
“Porn is about fantasy, about voyeurism, and it doesn’t matter if it’s real if it gets you off. But when it is real,” she spread her index and middle finger up the sides of the pear’s central opening, “if you’re good, if your sensitive, you’ll feel the spasms of your lover’s orgasm, even see them if you’re using your tongue; and you can feel them gripping at your cock when your inside her. If you’re paying attention.
“The clitoris,” she laughed softly, “Well with Andy I used a Ticktack, but he’s a chemistry major. He likes charts and graphs and periodic tables. You’re an artist, you live in your imagination, so you don’t need a Ticktack. Some women like the thumb stroking and circling while the other fingers work inside. Some women like to use their fingers.” She demonstrated on the pear, and Lex groaned. “It’s always best to ask and be sure.”
“What do you like?” His words were a labored rasp against the back of his throat, and Kelly found herself stunned by the question, and way more aroused than she wanted to be. He shouldn’t have asked. She should have answered. But she did.
“I like it this way.” She shifted her hips and opened a little further so he could see her thrust and scissor, circle and probe technique, and her body responded with the tight grip and release of muscle memory.
“Jesus,” he whispered moving forward on the sofa and leaning closer for a better look. “And when someone uses their tongue?”
She caught her breath in a giddy laugh. “Afraid I can’t tell you what I do since, sadly I’m not that flexible.”
“But you can tell me what you like.” His voice had gone rough.
“I like the flat of the tongue to part me and then probe me, circle my clit and then kiss and suck.” She closed her eyes, finding it difficult to meet his gaze when she spoke about something so intimate, so secret. Come to think of it, she’d never had a man actually ask her how she liked it. The few who had given a rat’s ass about her pleasure had been happy enough to let her order them about, but never quite got the hang of it.
It was the loud schussing sound that caused her to open her eyes. Lex had moved the coffee table out of the way paying no attention to the slosh of pear juice all over the towel V had spread. His eyes were locked on Kelly as he fished out his own pear half and fell to his knees in front of her. When she realized what the man was about to do she dropped the pear she’d been holding with a little gasp of surprise and scooted as far back in the chair as she could. He knelt low, holding the pear in the cup of his hand, as she had, placing it against the edge of the chair between her legs! She gave a little yelp and scrambled back in the chair still further, spreading her thighs over the rise of the chair arms to keep from touching him. He moved forward, the back of his hand so close to her crotch that she could feel the heat of it, and he lowered himself still further until his hair nearly brushed the insides of her thighs. Then, still looking up at her from his position on the floor, he began at the bottom of the open pear half and ran his tongue flat and undulating all the way up, flicking in just slightly in a little circle at the top end before he closed his lips around the apex and she could hear the slurp and suck of the sweet syrup.
“Oh! Lex! Ah!” And then she went non-verbal, holding her breath, tightening muscles deep inside her body, the only muscles she dared to move if she were to keep from touching him. She raised both arms and fisted her hands in a suicide grip around the back of the chair to keep from curling them in his hair. Her thighs trembled from her efforts to keep her legs on the chair arms and not throw them over his shoulders for leverage. She didn’t move. She didn’t breath as he licked and nuzzled and suckled until pear juice ran down his chin and onto his tee-shirt, until his face was damp and sticky, until his forehead was sheened with perspiration, and still he held her gaze as though they were locked together in each other’s orbit neither able to move without the other’s consent.
“Oh God, I’m gonna come.” She barely managed a warning when his own convulsion brought him dangerously near her body. He had stopped breathing, she was sure of it. She practically climbed the back of the chair to keep from touching him as he lost control. Then with a tremendous gasp of oxygen, he straightened, let the pear fall from his hand onto the aubusson carpet and looked up at her.
“I’m going to pass out.” And he did.

About K D Grace/Grace Marshall

Voted ETO Best Erotic Author of 2014, and a proud member of The Brit Babes, K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she is, otherwise, what would she write about?
When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening. When she’s not gardening, she’s walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband have walked Coast to Coast across England, along with several other long-distance routes. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots. She also enjoys martial arts, reading, watching the birds and anything that gets her outdoors.
K D has erotica published with SourceBooks, Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace,Sweetmeats Press and others.
K D’s critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include, TheInitiation of Ms Holly, Fulfilling the Contract, To Rome with Lust, and The PetShop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the first book of her Lakeland Witches trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on VioletBlue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Books two and three, Riding the Ether, and Elemental Fire, are now also available.
K D Grace also writes hot romance as Grace Marshall. An Executive Decision, Identity Crisis, The Exhibition, Interviewing Wade are all available.

Find K D Here:                                                                   

Websites:
http://kdgrace.co.uk/  
http://www.thebritbabes.co.uk       
Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/KDGraceAuthor
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/KD_Grace         
Pinterest: 
http://www.pinterest.com/kdgraceauthor/



Wednesday, 9 December 2015

Christmas Kink by Kay Jaybee – On Sale! (@kay_jaybee) #erotica #kink #bdsm #menage #ku #kindleunlimited

For all those who fancy a kinky kind of Christmas, here is the book for you. 



Christmas Kink by Kay Jaybee features Six Festive Fantasies and is on a Kindle Countdown Deal (in the UK and US marketplaces) from 3rd – 10th December. Grab your copy quickly, before the price increases!

Blurb

What’s your favourite part of the Christmas celebration? Decorating the tree with tinsel, the heavenly aroma of cinnamon and fruit from Christmas cakes and puddings, the office Christmas party, a visit to Santa’s grotto, the expected presents?

Complete with a brand new story for 2015, Christmas Kink twists all of these festive traditions into six individual episodes of hot erotica that will leave you fanning yourself with the nearest Christmas card...

Available exclusively to buy from Amazon, and to read as part of the Kindle Unlimited programme: http://mybook.to/christmaskink


Extract – Santa’s Little Helper
Jay gazed approvingly at her reflection in the tinsel-decorated mirror. The gold material shimmered as she turned from side-to-side. Cut to fit tightly against her chest, the bodice section gave way to an extremely short, almost tutu-style skirt, of the finest silvery gauze.
Her fingers trailed through the soft folds before she reached around to stroke the feather like wings that protruded from her back.
The fabric curtain was drawn back and the sales assistant drew a breath. ‘You are possibly the most beautiful fairy ever destined to top a Christmas tree.’ He pulled the ties tighter at the back of the bodice, forcing Jay to stand up taller. ‘You are also the sexiest.’ He pushed two exquisite high-heeled shoes towards her white-stocking-clad feet, enjoying the view as her tiny gold thong flashed in front of his eyes when she bent slightly to slip them on.
As a final touch he slid a delicate glittering tiara onto her short curled hair, and put a wand in her hand. ‘Now, all that’s missing is a smile.’
‘I am smiling.’
‘That’s not a smile, that’s the evil grin of a wicked slut who knows that every guy that claps eyes on you is going to be asking Santa Claus if he can screw you for Christmas.’ ...


About the Author
Kay Jaybee was named Best Erotica Writer of 2015 by the ETO. Kay also received an honouree mention at the NLA Awards 2015 for excellence in BDSM writing.
Kay Jaybee wrote The Perfect Submissive Trilogy, (The Perfect Submissive, The Retreat, Knowing Her Place, Xcite 2011-14), The Voyeur, (Xcite 2012), Making Him Wait (Sweetmeats, 2012), A Sticky Situation (Xcite, 2013), Digging Deep, (Xcite 2013), Not Her Type (1001 NightsPress, 2013), and The Collector (Austin & Macauley, 2012).
Details of all her other work can be found at www.kayjaybee.me.uk 
You can follow Kay on -


Thursday, 23 April 2015

New Release Sneaky Peek - The River's Embrace by A. Silenus

Blurb:

With her blond tresses and blue eyes, London fabric retailer Margery “Margie” Tull is used to being admired. When she’s hired to decorate a riverside manor house though, she suspects ulterior motives.

Lord of the manor Percival Winstanley reveals a long ago love triangle leading to death and the bewitching of his son and heir Stephen. Margie’s cousin Shyan is supposed to protect her. But he’s lured away by Winstanley’s cougarish housekeeper, Mrs. DePlessey, leaving Margie in the dubious care of servant Kern. 

Unsure whom to trust, Margie turns first to artist Raphael Watts, also working at the house. Meanwhile Stephen hovers in the background trying to draw her attention to a cottage across the river. Somehow the women who live there are a portent of Margie’s fate. If only Stephen can convince her of what lies in store Margie can give new hope to the manor and its heir.  



Buy links:





Excerpt:

Margie crept from the hall to the library and back again. It was the strangest thing how people either were not there when they were wanted or were breathing down your neck and scaring you out of your skin. There seemed no middle way in this house.
She would have to go upstairs. It was the obvious place to look. She started climbing steps, feeling like an intruder and unsure how she would explain why she was snooping around the house if she did find someone. A snigger told her she was on the right track. Tiptoeing across the landing and down a passage way, she homed in on the intertwined voices, Shyan’s wisecracks and Mrs. DePlessey’s purrs of appreciation.
Through the gap between an open bedroom door and the jamb, Margie watched unobserved. Shyan was standing on a foot stool wearing only underwear. Evidently measuring requirements had reached the upper thigh. A crouching Mrs. DePlessey’s glistening nails trailed a tape over the city boy’s pale flanks. Shyan’s muscles tensed as her fingers neared the straining material of his briefs.
“Am I tickling?” The question was made to sound guileless, like a dentist asking “Am I hurting you?”
“Well a bit,” Shyan said. “But it don’t bother me.”
I’ll bet it doesn’t, Margie thought. She was so mad at him. Had he forgotten why he had come? Not to dally with the housekeeper, that’s for sure.
The waistband was the next number on Mrs. DePlessey’s list, and as her arms circumnavigated Shyan’s midriff with the tape measure she could not refrain from rubbing the bangles on her wrists against his bare skin. The metal must have been cold, because Shyan jumped slightly at the touch.
“Oh, I am sorry. Did I do that?”
You calculating bitch, Margie wanted to shriek. She’d seen better acting on the soaps.
But there was nothing simulated about Shyan’s reaction once the tape made contact at the base of his spine. Margie didn’t have to see below his waistband to know his self-control was on the edge. It wouldn’t take much to unbalance him.
All it did take was another move in Mrs. DePlessey’s repertoire of suggestive contact. As her breasts prodded his stomach, ostensibly so she could complete the tape loop, Shyan’s hands descended onto her shoulders. Then the tape was forgotten as her lips came up to meet his. Her clasping arms steadied him on the wobbling stool. They moved to the bed in an uncoordinated tango, and toppled into a grinding embrace. Shyan tackled the buttons on her blouse. His hand groped for the bra clip at her back. He suckled on an inflamed turret of a nipple, with a gusto equal to Ainsworth’s effort during Margie’s previous spying escapade. Then the couple’s hands met and, steered by one or the other—or both—glided in unison down the crevasse between their bodies until they disappeared inside Shyan’s briefs.
Margie was mesmerized. Exasperated as she was by her cousin’s easy compliance, she couldn’t help being fascinated by this mesh of desires. That was why it was so startling when Mrs. DePlessey rolled Shyan to one side and, with a light kiss on the lips, told him, “We must save this.”
Shyan gaped and attempted to insert a hand between her closed thighs.
“For what?” he asked.
She smiled, not in the provocative way Margie half expected, but rather as if Shyan hadn’t understood.
“In time,” she said. “In time.”

About the Author
A. Silenus spent his early years in southern England and now lives in Arizona. He writes in various genres under different names. His erotica-oriented material includes three self-published sets of short stories, Fiends That Go Boink, which has otherworldly themes, Obsessions and Two Men And A Woman In A Boat.
Other stories have been published in anthologies, ezines and magazines, including Afternoon Delight (Cleis), The MILF Anthology (Blue Moon), Wicked Pleasures (Ravenous Romance), and Forum magazine in the UK.
For more about Silenus and his work, please go to his blog: Basic Writes: http://asilenus.blogspot.com/





Friday, 3 April 2015

New Release Sneaky Peek - The New Room by Kay Jaybee

Out Now! - The New Room by Kay Jaybee (@kay_jaybee)

The New Room is a novella length finale that follows on from the end of the best selling, The Perfect Submissive trilogy, by Kay Jaybee.

Blurb:
Miss Jess Sanders, resident submissive of the Fables Hotels adult entertainment floor, has been instructed to test out the new facility that her manageress, Mrs Peters, has designed for the sexual pleasure of her clients.
With a dungeon, Victorian study, medical bay, school room, and the daunting White Room already available for their guests, Jess can’t begin to imagine what lies behind the innocent looking door to the new room.
Under the supervision of the dominatrix, Miss Sarah, and with the assistance of her colleagues, Lee and Sam, as Jess steps into the new room, she quickly discovers she is about to experience far more than she bargained for...at freezing temperatures.
With the feeling that she’s acting in a play that everyone knows the script to but her, the Fables perfect submissive is challenged to the limit in Mrs Peters new room, and beyond...


Extract - The New Room
...With a shove of her bound hands against the small of her back, Jess was bent forward so that her feet remained flat upon the floor. Her belly and chest were laid across the throne’s cushion, while her forehead rested uncomfortably on the wooden seat next to it.
The volume of the music increased, and Jess wondered if that meant it would soon have to drown out a greater level of background noise.
As Jess’ companion ordered her to close her eyes, a further wave of uncertainty added to the submissive’s anxiety. She didn’t recognise the voice. It didn’t belong to either Max or Lee. This was a stranger.
Even with the cloak hanging over her back, Jess’ flesh felt an oddly clammy chill of foreboding mingle with the cold. As her nipples buffed against the cording that ran around the edge of the throne’s satin cushion, the sole thought hammering in Jess’ head was, Who is this man?
The Fables had no new male member of staff that Jess was aware of. Although it was possible someone had been hired and no one had told her. Wishing she’d thought to ask Mrs Peters if she had permission to speak during the training session, but not wanting to risk her superior’s wrath by assuming she could, Jess clamped her jaw against the need to ask the owner of the fingers that were exploring the curve of her backside with growing confidence, who the hell he was.
Her neck was beginning to stiffen against the hard chair seat. Jess was just wishing the pressure of the cushion against her chest wasn’t so arousing when the anonymous palms abruptly stilled. All but for the thumbs – which continued to work in small sweeping circles, the simple move pushing Jess’ sex addicted body to silently plead for the man to flick up her cloak and thrust himself into her from behind. Now!
The sound of the door opening again made Jess’ breath catch in her throat as she lay over the chairs. Who else had joined them? Jess’ unspoken question was quickly answered, as the imperial voice of the Fables’ fifth floor manageress addressed the man, who was now kneading Jess’ butt cheeks as if they were mounds of dough.
‘I trust Miss Sanders has been obedient for you, Mr Grant?’
‘Oh yes, Mrs Peters.’ Mr Grant’s voice was husky and dripped as much with disbelief as it did lust.
‘Has the girl spoken, asked questions, or hesitated in her obedience to your requests in anyway? Even fractionally? ’
‘Not one word. Not so much as a pause. The girl is as well schooled as you told me she was.’ The tone of Mr Grant’s voice told Jess that he hadn’t expected her to be the submissive her boss had evidently boasted her to be.
‘I only employ the best, Mr Grant.’ Even though she couldn’t see her, the satisfaction in Mrs Peters’ voice warmed Jess a little against the cold. ‘I have to say I’m impressed with what you’ve built for us. This is precisely the grotto I had in mind. Would you like the tip for your services now, or would you like to be a spectator for a while and take your reward for a job well done afterwards?’
Mr Grant’s gulp was clearly audible as his hands rested over Jess’ hips. Instinct sent her butt up towards him.
Hoping that Mrs Peters hadn’t noticed the unauthorised move, Jess squeezed her eyes together tighter, willing her companion to take his reward now. She desperately wanted his cock inside her.
‘As much as I’d like to witness what you’ve planned, Mrs Peters, I have business elsewhere.’ Mr Grant’s voice was getting huskier, and Jess could hear how close he was to coming already. She doubted that he genuinely had other business. It was more likely that he simply wasn’t able to wait to experience the pliability of the submissive’s flesh. The edgy urgency in his voice was something Jess had heard from many a male hotel guest over the past eighteen months.
Mrs Peters nodded, ‘Then you may proceed...’


Buy links


About the Author

Kay Jaybee was nominated as the Best Erotica Writer of 2013 and 2014 by the ETO.
Kay wrote the The Perfect Submissive Trilogy, (Xcite, 2011-14), Making Him Wait, (Sweetmeats Press, 2012), The Voyeur (Xcite, 2012), as well as the novellas, Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man (2nd ed. 1001 NightsPress, 2013), Digging Deep (Xcite, 2013), A Sticky Situation, (Xcite, 2012), and The Circus, (Sweetmeats Press). She has also written the anthologies The Collector (Austin & Macauley, 2012 & 2008), The Best of Kay Jaybee (Xcite, 2012), Tied to the Kitchen Sink, Equipment, (All Romance, 2012), Yes Ma’am (Xcite e-books, 2011), Quick Kink One and Quick Kink Two (Xcite e-books, 2010). Kay has had over 70 short stories published by Cleis Press, Black Lace, Mammoth, Xcite, Penguin, Seal, and Sweetmeats Press.

Details of Kay’s work, past, present and future can be found at www.kayjaybee.me.uk

You can follow Kay on 
Twitter- kay_jaybee