Friday, 20 February 2015


                                                          TITLE : DIRTY BAD WRONG
                                                            AUTHOR : JADE WEST
                                                             GENRE ;   BDSM , EROTICA ,ROMANCE

They call him Masque.

I call him God.

The man I want to consume me, own me, 

break me and corrupt me.

Yet I've never seen his face.
His body ripples like an Adonis, sculpted in steel and
dripping in sin. His flesh is inked with the mark of the
chimera - one body, two very different halves.
He plays hard.
He plays rough.
He has no limits.
He's so fucking dirty bad wrong.
But I love him for it.

Lydia Marsh is always the strong one. The girl who never breaks, and sure as hell never cries. She's got it all - the perfect little life in cosy suburbia, with her perfectly nice boyfriend, and their perfectly sufficient sex life. She's even got her perfect little career plan all wrapped up at Trial Run Software Group.
But when it all falls apart, and Lydia's pretty, green eyes are fixed on a brutally sexual stranger - the man they call Masque - she comes to suspect that being strong isn't all it's cracked up to be.
For now Lydia wants something she's never wanted before...
And she wants Masque to give it to her.

**Warning - this novel contains graphic sex, and hardcore elements of BDSM. There are scenes of violence (consensual) as well as sexual practices some readers may find offensive.
If you aren't turned on by dirty bad wrong sex then please walk on by. Thank you.*** 


The chains above rattle as I jerk in my bonds. My legs quiver, knees trembling, adrenaline pumping. He circles me. I feel his footfalls. Heavy, purposeful. I can smell him, too. He smells of sex, and sweat, and musk. He smells of sin. He smells so damn dirty bad wrong. The tap, tap, tap of the cane against my thighs, so gently. I take a breath. The cane comes to rest, pressing against my skin, and he’s at my side, his lips at my ear. “Steady,” he breathes and his warm breath sends tingles down my neck. He trails a hand up my ribs, and my body flinches. Fight or flight. In my chains I can do neither. And I don’t want to. The glowing heat between my legs gives testament to one simple truth. I want him... the release he delivers through pain... the silky caress of the abyss beyond fear. I want him to break me. I want him to hurt me. I want him to own me. And then I want him to love me. “Tell me what you need, Lydia.” I gasp. His savage hand is on my breast. Gripping, twisting, hurting. My nipples come alive, begging for punishment, and I roll into his touch. It feels so fucking good. I hear my own ragged breathing, the incoherent murmurs coming from my mouth. He kicks my feet further apart, spreading me wide. I struggle to keep my balance, but the cuffs pull tight against the chains, taking my weight. Another tap of the cane on my stomach, harder this time, and then his fingers, teasing me open, grazing my clit. Fuck. Two fingers hook inside, pushing in deep. I hear how wet I sound. He groans his approval. My words catch in my throat, but I force them out. “Pain... I want pain...” I gasp again as his two fingers lift me onto my toes. “I did not ask you what you wanted, I asked you what you needed.” “Pain … please, I need pain …” He kisses my neck, and I’m lost in him, swimming in his darkness. “I’m going to hurt you now, Lydia Marsh. I’m going to mark you, and break you, and own you... and then I’m going to make you cum so hard you’ll scream my name. Will I tell you what I need? I need to see you cry, Lydia. You’re so fucking beautiful when you cry.” I screw my eyes shut under the blindfold and take a deep breath. I’m ready.


Cara spread her legs like a good girl, pressed tight against the flogging bench with her perky little ass in the air. Just how I wanted her. I knelt down behind, spreading her wide enough to trace my tongue around the tight little ring of her asshole. She squirmed like an eel, and I slapped her ass. Hard. The smack of my palm cut loud across the room. “I said, don’t move.” She stopped squirming. “Sorry, sir.” I savoured my position a moment longer, her glistening pussy just an inch from my nose. I breathed deeply, letting my warm breath tease her. She tensed, but checked herself, keeping still enough to prevent further punishment. God, I needed this. I needed the heady scent of sex, the musky taste of her against my tongue. I needed to feel her jerk and scream as she came, and even then still beg for more. More tongue, and more pain. I’d give her more of both. Gladly. I buried my tongue, lapping at her slit and teasing a path through the folds to her clit. She tasted so fucking good. She moaned, but didn’t move a muscle, not even when I clamped my mouth tight onto her, taking her sweet little nub between my lips. Her scent hammered my senses, and my dick twitched in my jeans. Fuck yeah. I stopped. “What do you want, Cara?” Her answer came within a second. “Your mouth, sir. Please.” “You will remain quiet and still.” “Yes, sir.” “If you move or make a sound, I will spank you, hard, understand?” I saw her pussy clench. Horny little bitch. “Yes, sir. I understand, sir.” “Good girl.” I spread her open, stretching her lips wide apart like a pretty pink butterfly. So fucking pretty. I heard her breath quicken, and almost willed her to moan, just so I could punish her. “You have a perfect little cunt, Cara.” I imagined her eyes screwed shut under her blindfold, all her concentration focused on obeying. I wasn’t going to make it easy. I fixed my mouth onto her, sucking her in. She was already swollen with lust, ripe for my touch. I swirled my tongue, gently, my arms wrapped around her thighs to hold her tight to me. Every muscle in her legs was tense, straining for composure. I gripped her flesh in my teeth as I pulled away, savage enough to make her breath hitch. Make a sound, you filthy bitch, make a fucking sound. She kept quiet. I plunged two fingers inside her and she exhaled everything she had. I curled them forward, finding just the right spot. The cuffs on her wrists jangled as I worked her from the inside, but I let her off this once. My thumb balled her clit, pinning her pleasure from both the inside and out. Her cunt made gorgeous wet slurps, slick and swollen from everything she was taking from me. I closed my eyes to savour the sensation. “I’m going to stretch you open, Cara. You do want more, don’t you?” “Yes, yes please, sir.” Her voice was raspy. I slid in a third finger, and her legs trembled. She tightened beautifully, her greedy little slit sucking at my fingers. I worked her into a rhythm, strong steady movements all the way inside her, echoed by my thumb around her clit. “Please, sir, may I cum?” “No.” Her legs shuddered again, another clink of her cuffs. “Don’t make me punish you, Cara.” She was trying so hard, but the sadist in me couldn’t resist. I increased the pressure, coaxing the nerves inside. They betrayed her, and she bucked against my hand, wheezing out a string of incomprehensible mewls. I pulled away instantly and her knees almost buckled. “I said, no.” “I’m sorry, sir,” she murmured. “I’m sorry.” I got to my feet, kneading the soft skin of her buttocks in rough hands. “I’m going to punish you now, Cara. You need to be punished now, don’t you?” “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” I trailed my fingers up the soft pale groove of her spine, enjoying the way her muscles twitched at my touch. “If you’re a really good girl, I’ll make you cum after.” She groaned and arched her back, jutting her ass out towards me. She’s so fucking good. I didn’t go easy on her. My blows were hard, and fast. Slap after slap across her perfect white flesh. Her ass juddered under the abuse, and soon the sound of her whimpers came loud. Her ass bloomed pink under my hands, rosy and gorgeous, ripening to a deep, dark flush. I coloured her thighs too for good measure, and she let out a squeal as I landed one right on her pussy. She lay flat to the bench, breathing heavy while I gave her a moment. “Your skin is so pretty, Cara.” “Thank you, sir.” I ran my fingernails down her thighs and she gasped, shifting her legs apart like a wanton whore. “What do you want, Cara?” “I want to cum. Please make me cum, sir.” Without warning I grabbed hold of her hair, yanking her head back. “You don’t deserve it, yet.” I kept hold while I slapped her again, watching the tension in her shoulders as I inflicted her punishment. I observed every twitch, every flinch and every tiny moan, watching her careening to the edge of her tolerance, a slow burning arch of pain. It made my dick throb. I finished up as she made a particularly loud whimper. Perfect timing. I watched the rise and fall of her back as she caught her breath. “How do you feel, Cara?” “Amazing, thank you, sir.” She wasn’t lying. Her face was flushed bright and her thighs were slippery wet, but more telling was the smile that spread slowly across her lips. Endorphins kicking in, no doubt. She was flying high. I slid my fingers all the way back inside her, saving my thumb for her asshole. She groaned as I forced it in, and bucked back against me with jerky motions. I allowed her movement this time, back and forward against my intrusion as her chains rattled. My free hand curled around her thigh, circling gently around her sopping wet clit, and with steady fingers I brought her to her peak. I pressed my whole weight against her as she exploded, pinning her to the bench. The restriction sent her wild, and she shuddered against me, squealing like a cat. I didn’t stop until she was all done, withdrawing my fingers with a delicious squelch. I touched them to her lips and she licked them clean. “Good girl, Cara.”

Jade West is a contemporary erotic author from Warwick in the UK, due to release her debut BDSM novel, Dirty Bad Wrong, in February 2015. Jade is a real life submissive, and former sex chat-line operator, who is plenty used to getting people all steamed up with her dirty mouth. She has a healthy interest in pornography, men in suits and taking 100 strokes with a cane 'Mood Pictures' style.


Saturday, 14 February 2015

Cecilia Robert A Need So Insatiable Sale Blitz

TITLE:  A Need So Insatiable
AUTHOR: Cecilia Robert
 GENRE: Romance

“You've owned me from the moment I walked into that music room. You've wrapped yourself in my heart and mind. I can’t get you out. I don’t want to.” ~ Rafael Van Rees

Sophie Fisher’s life is on fire. If she’s not ducking around corners or slipping out of windows to escape the debt collectors her father's death has left knocking on her door, she’s dealing with her rebellious, fifteen-year-old sister, Lilli. And, as if that’s not enough, Rafael Van Rees crashes into her life—literally—bringing with him a past the public has no idea of. Can she unravel his mysteries before he unravels her, or will his presence finally force her to face the demons she's trying to outrun?

Rafael Van Rees prides himself on being in control of his destiny, music and women. As far as he is concerned, his past is a black cloud in the distance--until he meets Sophie, that is, and his world spins out of control in more ways than one. He knows the darkest sins and secrets eventually reveal themselves, but when it comes to Sophie, he'll stop at nothing to protect her from his past. Even if it kills him.

**Mature Content Warning** 17+ for language and sexual content

. . “Did you need something?”
“Just this . . .” I frame her face with my palms and brush my lips on hers. She sucks in a breath, her eyes fluttering shut. She grabs the front of my shirt as she sags forward, like her legs can’t hold her up anymore. Slipping one arm around her waist, I pull her curvy, soft body flush against my hard one, my lips still on hers.
Fuck yes! The buzz is still there. We were both young when we shared our first kiss, but this. This is different. Time hasn’t erased the connection between us. My heart recognizes her, beating to a rhythm that’s only hers.
Pulling back, I stare at the face that has lived in my head for years. Haunting me. Comforting me. Her eyes slowly open, and she blinks, looking dazed. She presses her fingers on her lips.
“You kissed me,” she whispers, as if it’s the most unusual thing. Does she not get kissed often? Her lips were made for kissing, and I can’t get my greedy eyes off them.
I tip my head to the side. “I did,” I say, pressing my thumb on her bottom lip, inching up to the labret. Her mouth parts slightly. I could kiss her again, slip my tongue past those delectable lips. Taste her. Really taste her.
“Goodbye, Sophie.” I drop my hand and turn to leave, then stop. “Nice tattoo, by the way. A butterfly.” I emphasize the last word to get a reaction. Nothing.
“Mr. Van R--Rafael. Do we know each other?”
Christ, the way she says my name has every part of my body straining, wanting to hear her say it again.
“Do we?” I lift a brow.
Her frown deepens, and her bewitching eyes, smoky after the shared semi-kiss, narrow at me.
I’m not about to tell her. I need to find out why she can’t remember me first. “Drive safely, Sophie.” I turn, and stride back to Simone’s music room. I feel her eyes on my back, my shoulders, my ass. I let her have her fill. I’m not going to deny her--and me--this chance. I’m selfish, but hey, she needs the image to go along with the kiss. Right before I turn the corner, she takes a loud, deep breath.
Damn right, Butterfly.

Excerpt 2
I stalk toward the car, my fists twitching at my sides. Another thud comes from the house. The image of her wrapped in someone’s arms is replaced by one that entirely chills my blood. I change directions and dash across the lawn to the front door. It’s locked. I lift my foot to kick it in, but pause when I hear sounds coming from the backyard. I round the corner, scanning the area. Two large backpacks lay on the lawn. A smaller one tumbles to the ground beside them. I jerk my gaze up, trailing it along the rope dangling from the roof.
What the fuck?
Sophie leans out a window on the second story, grabs the rope, murmuring under her breath, and wraps her booted legs around it, sliding down expertly. I groan, readjusting the front of my jeans as I watch her curvy ass descend. I move to stand below the window and wait, my hands ready and twitching. Who said stalking doesn’t have its benefits?
“What are we rehearsing for? Grand Theft House, or this is just a nightly thing?”
She squeals, flailing, and plunges into my arms, cursing words that have my ears burning. I let her squirming body slide against mine until her feet touch the wet grass.
I duck my head, leveling my lips to the shell of her ear. “Ladies don’t curse.”
She shivers, and whirls around to face me, her eyes on fire and her cheeks flushed. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m nowhere close to a lady. What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Saving you from breaking that pretty little neck.”
She stomps to the backpacks and picks them off the ground. “I don’t need saving.” One bag goes over her shoulder, the other around her chest.
“What’s with the Sedan outside?”
Her hands stop adjusting the smaller bag, and she sways as she tries to balance the extra weight. “They’ve been watching my house since my dad passed away.” She starts to walk toward the bushy fence on her right.
“Where are you going?”
“To my Honda.”
“In the bushes?” She ignores me, and walks off. I grab her arm and spin her around. I’m not in the mood to argue. If Josef called Kravic to tell him I was hanging around, we might be sitting ducks right now. “We need to talk. Now.”
She frowns. “I’m staying at Jace’s, and need to get back before everyone gets nervous.” Her gaze darts around. She licks her lips before looking up at me.
“They’ll be fine. Trust me. I have someone watching their flat. Look, I know about the people following you and Lilli around.”
She stumbles back, her eyes wide. “Wha--how did you know? Did Jace tell you? Oh my God, she did, didn’t she? I’m going to kick her ass from here to Russia.”
I step forward, grabbing her shoulders. “Stop freaking out, Sophie. Jace didn’t tell me anything.” She tries to shake herself from my grip, but I don’t let her go. “There’s so much I want to tell you, but we need to leave, okay? Trust me.”
“Not now--”
“Damn it, Sophie, listen to me! I know these men. They’re not here because they want to play house with you.”
“Of c--wait a second. You know them?”
Shit! This is not how I wanted to explain things. I nod once. I’m already balls deep into my confession. No point in trying to deny it now.
She studies me, and, for just a moment, I see fear reflected in her eyes. “And you want me to trust you, Rafael? How the fuck am I supposed to do that?”
She abruptly wiggles out of my hands, and darts toward the front of the house, dropping the backpacks.
“Damn it all to hell!” I tear after her, scooping her up before she rounds the corner. She shrieks, flailing her legs and arms, trying to dislodge my hold. One foot hits my balls. “Fucking hell! Stop that right now.” I growl in her ear.
Of course, she doesn’t. Clenching my jaw, I drop to the ground, making sure my body takes the impact, then flip around so she’s on her back. I pin her arms to the ground.
“Are you trying to castrate me? Seriously, Sophie, stop this struggling shit right now.”
“Let go of me you, you--”
She stops, glaring up at me. Tears swim in her eyes, reflecting the moonlight. She blinks hard, as if to push back the tears. Our ragged breathing fills the quiet night.
“Are you ready to listen to me?”
She swallows, and nods. I wait until I feel her body relax beneath mine, then ease my hands off her arms, and unpin her legs from my thighs. Her knee jerks up, toward my groin, and I tilt my hips fast.
“Bloody hell!” I grab her biceps, let my body drop onto hers, and capture her mouth with mine, swallowing her yelp.
Christ, she tastes like fire and tears and fear. Her mouth is the most fantastic thing I’ve ever tasted. Her bunched muscles relax beneath my fingers as a whimper rushes through her mouth. Pulling back, I nip her jaw, tracing a path to her ear and running my tongue over its outline.
“You taste so damn good, Sophie. Want to kick me again?”
She doesn’t answer. I pull back, quirking a brow at her. Fuck, she’s so beautiful with her flushed cheeks and plump, sweet lips.
She shakes her head.
“Good.” I brush that little dimple on her chin with my fingertips. “Trust. Me.”
She bites the corner of her bottom lip and nods. “This talk had better be good, or I might stab you while you sleep.”

I write YA, NA and Adult. My motto: Passion rules. I enjoy writing stories about people finding love in the most unexpected places, coupled with adventurous journeys, whether it's urban, fantasy, sci-fi, contemporary or paranormal romance. There's always a happy ever after, no matter how long it takes to get there. 


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Friday, 6 February 2015


TITLE: Flirting With Love
AUTHOR : Clara Stone
GENRE : Romance , Young Adult

Hudson and Blake Lovelly lead a charmed life—successful careers,loving family, beautiful home. Now, on the eve of their daughter’s birth, they’re counting their blessings. Life wasn’t always so generous . . .

Fifteen years ago, seventeen-year-old Blake Voss walked into Cranbrook Preparatory High to participate in the school year’s most-prestigious debate competition. She never expected to fall for the pretentious, golden-haired boy on the opposing debate team, and he never expected to be ensnared by the quick-witted prankster with a heart of gold.

Their mutual love for joking pretense soon leads them to pull their biggest prank yet--pretending to be in love. But when danger threatens, Hudson can’t conceal his growing affection. He’ll do anything to be with Blake, even if it means risking his heart to protect her.

They didn’t plan for their friendship to grow into a love story. But sometimes, all it takes is a little Hope.

This powerful companion to Forever Kinda Love tells the history of Hudson and Blake’s relationship. Laced with haunting emotion and beautiful sentiment, this is a tale about overcoming even the darkest moments, reminding us all to love more. Give more. Without regrets.

“You.” I point at the guy that always seems to cling to Blake like a pet octopus. Weasley, or Possum, or something equally asinine.
He turns, eyebrows raised, and crosses his arms in defiance. The group around him pauses, their curious eyes on us. I ignore it.
“Where is she, Weasel?”
“My name is not Weas—”
“Weasel, Wormhole, whatever. I don’t care. Where. Is. She.”
He grinds his teeth. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“Oh, really?” I take a threatening step toward him, cracking my knuckles. I’m not above bruising a chump to get justice for my Jags.
“What’s going on?” A voice, filled with authority, comes from behind me. Something stirs in the pit of my stomach . . . irritation, anger, or . . . ?
I take a deep breath and pivot. “Blake.”
She looks unimpressed, her eyes boring into mine. I notice the crowd around us is still hovering, interested to see where this is going. But once again, I ignore them.
I step toward Blake, searching the chocolate depths of her eyes for any sign of guilt. There isn’t any, but the fire that seems to crackle just beneath their surface leaves me suspicious. And slightly mesmerized.
A small smile appears on her lips, but quickly vanishes.
“Golden Boy here is looking for you,” Willy Wonkers says, shouldering past me to stand next to Blake.
I growl. “Who the hell are you calling—”
“Golden Boy.” Blake cuts me off.
I grunt, annoyed.. “Don’t call me that.”
She raises an eyebrow and takes a step toward me, away from Wes the Pet. “So . . . ?”
“So . . .” I prod.
She bites down on her lower lip, waiting for me to say something. And I don’t. Because there is no way I’m asking if she messed up my Jags. I want her to confess.
She clears her throat. “You were looking for me?”
Un-freaking-believable. Really, Blake? Really? Her confession be damned. I need answers. Now.  “How could you do this to my baby?”


Life’s. Little. Surprises. 

The last thing seven-year-old Carrigan "Ace" Casper foresaw was an eight-year-old Heath Lovelly walking into her life the day her mother died. From that moment on, Heath sticks by her side, slowly becoming her strength, her confidant, and her entire world. What she doesn’t know is, she's his saving grace, too. 

Ten years later, Ace is handed another crippling challenge that threatens everything in her almost perfect life. Only, this time, she doesn't turn to Heath, hiding the truth instead. But Heath knows Ace too well and won't back down easily. He's ready to do whatever it takes and will stay by her side until she accepts that their love is the kinda love worth fighting for. 

Will he be her forever triumph or her unexpected downfall? 

Two lives. 

One story. 

And an unexpected journey to falling in love.

Clara Stone lives in the beautiful city of Boise, ID. Unlike what most believe about Idaho, it’s more than a sack full of potatoes. When she’s not writing, you’ll catch Clara reading YA and NA books, mostly romance, and enjoying time with her family. She is a proud CW TV addict.