Monday, December 29, 2008

Chat about BDSM Books

We have a steaming hot chat for you Monday December 29. Eve Summers and Lyn Cash and Claire Thompson will discuss BDSM Romance Writing.

What attracts people to BDSM? My first BDSM party. On the lighter side: BD without the SM. Is it time to create a new sub-genre? What is erotic submission? Our guests will discuss these and answer your questions in the Realms of Love Chat Castle Monday December 29 at 9 PM Eastern/6 PM Pacific.

Stop by and get tied up for an hour of fun chat with these erotic romance writers. There will be give-aways.

Can hot steamy chocolate and warm vanilla mix or are they separate? Never the two to twine? Is it time for a nice treat or is it only a trick, a slight of the hand?

Clare’s ex-fiancĂ© treated her like a queen: he was kind, attentive to her needs in bed and b-o-r-i-n-g. He never made her do what she wanted him to make her do.

From the moment Clare sets eyes on David at a Halloween party, her hormones go wild with desire. His arrogant smile promises something darker, deeper and more intense. He is Trouble - with a big, big T. And yet, the mistake of letting him would be even bigger.

David believes love is not worth the pain it brings, no matter how divine Clare looks in her goddess costume. To him, she is just a rich white girl bored of vanilla sex, and he is happy to show her a good time.

So why does he melt inside every time their eyes meet?

Eve Summers is the pen name under which Yvonne Eve Walus writes romance and erotica for Red Rose Publishing. Eve believes that words are the greatest aphrodisiac, and the best lover is the one who will set your mind on fire (though, of course, it's ok if he looks like Josh Holloway, too).

Eve's first experience at writing erotica was a monthly members' only newsletter distributed among subscribers of a porn site. It was a guaranteed conversation-stopper.

Claire Thompson: Two Masters for Alex

When Alex signs up to be Daniel and Liam’s personal sex slave, she expects to be ravished and adored. Instead she finds herself in the middle of a very hot M/M love affair. To her chagrin, she is not the subject of their torrid passion, but the object, a girl toy expected to conform to the rules of the house or suffer the consequences.

Liam and Daniel, at first eager to bring another into their D/s play, find their carefully controlled world turned upside down by the sexy, eager but sometimes less than submissive beauty in their midst.

They are forced to deal with sometimes heart-wrenching, sometimes hilarious issues that arise when two become three. In the unfolding passion play each must confront jealousy, trust and their own understanding of the romance of a D/s relationship. Alex must look inside herself to discover if she has what it takes to remain in the arms and hearts of the two men she calls Master.

I have always loved to write. My work began as a romantic exploration of the BDSM life style, and then veered somewhat to the darker side of fantasy. I was able to delve into "rough stuff", things that compelled me in the abstract, though I wouldn't necessarily want to experience them. My more current work has returned to the more romantic inclinations of consensual submission.

Claire Thompson says: The majority of my novels deal with the romance of erotic submission. I also enjoy historical erotic romance, vampire play and my latest foray into male/male erotic love. It is important to me to write about real people, characters I and my readers come to care about. I don't want to simply provide an erotic thrill or evocative description. With my BDSM work, I seek not only to tell a story, but to come to grips with, and ultimately exalt in the true beauty and spirituality of a loving exchange of power. My darker works press the envelope of what is erotic and what can be a sometimes dangerous slide into the world of sadomasochism. I strive to write about the timeless themes of sexuality and romance, with twists and curves to examine the romantic side of the human psyche. Ultimately my work deals with the human condition, and our constant search for love and intensity of experience.

Lyn Cash: Red Hot Lover

Two firefighters battle the hottest flames they’ve encountered their attraction to one another.

After a fire sweeps through the school where she teaches and she’s unable to save the life of her best friend, Faith Sloan leaves the chalkboard jungle for a career as a firefighter, only to find that one of her former students may be the arsonist responsible for the current devastation in her area of the city.

Without losing her trust, Captain Chance James must ensure that his rookie firefighter doesn’t get caught between the truth and a killer. He’s willing to bend the rules to protect Faith from harm, but there’s nothing he can do to shield his own heart once they become lovers. Faith takes him into her bed, her parents take him into their home as he recuperates from a freak accident, and soon the rough-and-ready firefighter must decide what he wants most…his woman or his career.

Aspiring Author Chat Next Week

We've got a special Aspiring Author Chat Monday, January 5. Maura Anderson, Lucynda Storey and Lena Austin will cover topics that will help YOU get published or maybe improve your relationships with publishers in 2009.

Lizzie and Melissa on January 12

Lizzie T Leaf hostesses Melissa Mayhue Monday, January 12 in the Realms of Love Chat Castle.

I like to think I've earned my reputation For rushing in where angels fear to tread,



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Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Hi, from Melody Knight/N. D. Hansen-Hill

Thanks so much, Eve, for inviting me to blog the next few days. In keeping with the "theme", LOL, I am posting some of the hotter scenes from some of my releases with Red Rose Publishing and Linden Bay Romance|Samhain (I'm one of the new hybrids).

Regards and best wishes,


Here's a scene from Of Dragons:


"I cannot...not have you—" she gasped. Sweat drenched her as she fought the impulse, a fever building as she sought to stay him with force of will—building a wall between them, that he couldn't penetrate...

...until the force of his grasp, his thrust forward slid, caught, glided, snagged, held, then jutted up inside her, as his hands tightened, digging in frenzied passion as he jiggled up tighter and higher, deeply, darkly, in mad, eclipsing jettisoning, jutting rut. She was trapped, impaled on his thickness, engorged to meet him, no part of her allowing him to slip away. He drove up and she down, but in truth there was not so much movement outward as inward, where their insides strained to grunt and traverse any remaining space between them, filling all gaps, so they were one, connecting and connected. Glynt exploded on a tickle that was Ryon jettisoning, exploding, filling her insides with white hot light, so she glowed, in straining, sweating silence, as her insides gave in spasms of rhythmic passion, claiming him again and again over the hours. She had no choice—no more than he. She claimed him, demanded his seed again and again and again, and he could neither break free nor could she break loose.

And sometime during the impassioned hours, she remembered whispering, "I'm sorry," and "I tried," but it no longer mattered, because he wanted her, too—more than wanted her. Needed her, to be part of her. He merely brushed a kiss across her head in response, because he no longer cared about the hows or the whys. They lay entwined on the blanket, and he wanted only to come in her again and again. They consumed each other in near silence, but some part of Ryon wanted to howl in ecstasy. There was no regret. There was only...Glynt.

It hurt, in all ways, when he had to leave her. At the last, dehydration did what passion would not allow. The connection loosened, and on a last surge of energetic fulfillment, he was free, sliding easily from her passage on the wetness of their lovemaking. He watched, as the glow in her belly and loins faded.

His chameleon girl was chameleon once more.

He kissed her again, and exhausted as she, spooned her, cuddling her against him. She was his first, last, always. As it should be. Pride of place kept him close.

But he was too human not to worry. His throat was dry, but he knew it was more than thirst. "Will there—will there be a child?"

She lifted eyes which where lighter now that the passion was lifting. She wasn't happy about the last. He could read it in her face. "How could there not be?" she asked, almost bitterly. To bring a child into her world, where only evil and death awaited?

It didn't stop her though, then or later. This wasn't heat, but it was heated. She didn't want a child, but she wanted him. A short while later, Glint spread her legs, pulled him into her...and claimed him once again.

AUTHOR WEBSITES: N. D. Hansen-Hill | Melody Knight

A Halloween Read - Part 2 - VERY ADULT

Slice Me Nice
A short sequel to “A Slave of My Own Desire
(Red Rose Publishing, 2008)

(...“Yes.” That’s all I can manage, and even that comes out raspy through my suddenly dry throat.)

I expect him to reach for me now. Instead, he tilts the condensed milk tin. The creamy liquid shoots out of the tin straight into the hollowed-out pumpkin, and my hips move all by themselves as they follow the rhythm of his gestures.

“Lick.” He offers me a drop of the milky overflow.

It tastes sweet and I moan, a guttural moan of mating. One night with David was all that I needed to turn into a slut.

“Where do we,” David emphasises the we, “keep our sherbet?”

“In the trick-a-treat bag.”

Before I know it, I’m sitting on the edge of the kitchen bench, dressing gown gaping over my open thighs.

“David, no.”

The sherbet hits my moist flesh and I get lost in its effervescence. The world has contracted to a single square of sparks. I’m burning. I’m flying. I have to come.

“More. Please, more.”

But instead of more powder, David searches out an ice cube. Its dull cold tricks my stinging clit to spasm with an orgasm so powerful that I scream. I can hear the sound, I can feel it in my mouth, yet I can’t stop it.

“F- me,” I whisper when I’m done. I need him inside. I need to feel his mouth on mine.


“F- me, David. Please.”

He brushes his fingers over my clit as he buries them deep inside me. Tiny globules of sherbet hit my g-spot and I stop caring what the neighbours think.

If they want to rush over and watch, they’re welcome. I, for one, am enjoying the sight.

Buy “A Slave of My Own Desire

Even a church-goer likes this book

I finally gathered my courage and promoted "A slave of my own desire" to a male friend of mine FROM CHURCH!!!

(Yes, you're right. "Slave of my own desire" is an EROTIC romance.)

His comment upon reading it: "Your husband is a lucky man."

Phew! 1 more sale and 1 friendship kept intact.
(Oh, and a lucky husband, apparently.)

Saturday, December 6, 2008

Hitting the top 10


Has Hit # 5

On Red Rose Publishing's Top Ten List

Santa leaned against a railing of silky teddies and thongs, all pink fluff and feathers along with black lace and faux fur. Mandy blinked several times. The guy didn’t move. The look on his face, humor and downright daring indicate he knew exactly what he leaned against. But still he stayed there. His arms crossed his chest, pulling the red suit across his broad shoulders. The fabric stretched and Mandy’s eyes widened. This was no weasely old man Santa and she wondered for the first time, what lay beneath all that fake Santa stuff?
Happy reading

Desperately Seeking Santa

I'm reading "Desperately Seeking Santa" by Jane Beckenham this weekend. Knowing Jane's other books, I expected a treat and I was right!

I'm only on page 23 (out of 144), but I can already tell you "Desperately Seeking Santa" is a romp! The dialogues rival those of Jenny Crusie, and my fave quote so far is:

"I guess you think Santa shouldn't make out, huh?"

You can find it on

Thursday, December 4, 2008

Santa has come early

Hello, my name is Jane Beckenham and the lovely Eve Summers has allowed me to blog here today. I'm very pleased to announce that my Christmas story - DESPERATELY SEEKING SANTA has been released today by Red Rose Publishing.

Just released!

By Jane Beckenham
Red Rose Publishing

Holiday/ Contemporary
ISBN: 978-1-60435-249-8

What’s in your Christmas Stocking?

Dreams and fantasies are just that for Mandy Brooks, assistant manager of Wentworth’s, an upmarket department store. Work always gets in the way. But then that is exactly how Mandy likes it. Until Christmas comes round again and she’s forced to play the part of Mrs Santa.

Christmas day five years ago, Tate Sullivan left town. It was also the day Mandy ditched him at the altar. Forced back because of his father’s death, he knows he’s got unfinished business with Mandy Brooks. He wants her back in his bed on his terms, his way. He’s out for revenge. It’s meant to be sweet, isn’t it?

Santa leaned against a railing of silky teddies and thongs, all pink fluff and feathers along with black lace and faux fur. Mandy blinked several times. The guy didn’t move. The look on his face, humor and downright daring indicate he knew exactly what he leaned against. But still he stayed there. His arms crossed his chest, pulling the red suit across his broad shoulders. The fabric stretched and Mandy’s eyes widened. This was no weasely old man Santa and she wondered for the first time, what lay beneath all that fake Santa stuff?
“The phone lines are down,” he said, suddenly breaking into her heated thoughts.
Mandy shook her head, tendrils falling loose across her face. It tickled and she roughly brushed it away, tucking it behind her ears.
“Don’t do that.”
Her hand stalled, a strand of hair still between her thumb and forefinger. “Pardon?” Had she heard right, the guys voice was kinda muffled beneath all those whiskers.
“I liked it like that.”
Her brows puckered. Liked? Mandy snapped her thoughts closed. “The phone,” she prompted.
“The phone lines are out. Must have hit the mobile phone tower too, because can’t get a signal on my phone. The storm has struck so it looks like we’ll have to stay the night.”
“You want to what?" Shocked, Mandy gaped at Santa. "Sleep here?” She took a quick inventory. Not a bed in sight. “You've got to be joking. Besides, it's Christmas Eve."
"Got anywhere else to go?"
Mandy’s jaw dropped, but no words came out while a stain of heat scalded her cheeks. She didn't have anywhere else to go No family. No life. Christmas as far as she was concerned was a non-event. But she wasn't about to admit that. She tucked her suddenly fidgeting hands behind her. “Don't you?” she questioned as a counter-defense.
Desperation hiked up ten-fold. “But we're locked in, everyone's gone home. What'll we do?"
“Told you. Sleep."
Mandy stared into the dimness all around them, expecting, praying a security guard would walk out of the increasing darkness. “You can't sleep here. This is a department store.”
“Sure I can. There's a bed, isn't there?” he said pointing towards the Santa grotto.
“That's Santa's sleigh!"
“Bed, sleigh, what's the difference?" He shrugged and his bushy white brows wiggled. “You're a mite picky for someone stuck in a department store, don’t ya think?" He strode towards the sleigh and without thinking she found herself following him. Santa was in full force tossing out presents...well boxes of various sizes and colors intended to grant every child's desire, as she side-stepped the elve’s mushroom stand.
“Which side do you want?"

Happy reading
Jane Beckenham

CoffeeTimes review of "A Slave of My Own Desire"

A Slave of My Own Desire by Eve Summers (Red Rose Publishing, 2008)
"This short novella is a testament to a good erotic read with a moral ... ":

Read the full review here:


ISBN: 978-1-60435-110-1