Malin James Talks ROADHOUSE BLUES!

Ladies and gentlemen, I am so excited to share a visit with a very special guest today. As you are likely aware, the lovely Malin James and I are the best of friends—which is why I’m pleased as punch to have her here! If you have been under a rock, and somehow aren’t aware of Malin’s work, then please know you are definitely missing something. Fortunately, I’m going to let you in on her amazingness right here and now. See, here’s Malin in a nutshell: her words are extraordinary, her style is exquisite, and most importantly, her mind is brilliant! Her stories range from erotic to literary, always exploring people, their place, culture, and, well, life and its many expressions, ins, and outs. No matter what Malin’s written, it often gives you pause to think and reflect, think and reflect… It’s fairly impossible for her work to not evoke something from deep within yourself. It’s just that good.

So, with all that in mind, today I am tickled to have her answering some questions about her writing as well as her brand new anthology, Roadhouse Blues! The book came out yesterday from Go Deeper Press, and I assure you, you’re not going to want to miss it.

Before you order up this anthology (if you haven’t already), please enjoy the clever mind of Malin James as she answers some burning questions I had about both Roadhouse Blues and her writing life…

An Interview with Malin James

Welcome Malin! I’m thrilled to have you here, so I’m going to dive right in… When you started Roadhouse Blues, did you have a particular vision in mind for where you wanted to go with it, or did it fall into place once you wrote a few stories?

The collection came together pretty organically. The first few stories set a tone, but the themes emerged slowly as the world developed. When I started, the only thing I knew for sure was that the stories would all be connected in some way. Having that relatively flexible structure as a foundation gave me a lot of room to explore.

What is your favorite story in the bunch and why?

That’s hard…. I’ve been sitting with a few of these stories for over a decade, while others were immediate emotional catalysts, so there’s a lot of feeling attached to all of them. That said, I think the two I feel closest to are “Krystal’s Revenge Fuck” and “Marlboro Man.” “Krystal” is audacious, angry and funny. It was so much fun to write. On the other side of the spectrum, “Marlboro Man” is the only story that has ever made me cry the keyboard. Both resonated with me in a very instinctual way. Writing them was like having a conversation with the characters.

Which story was the hardest for you to write? Can you give us a little insight into why you think this might be?

“Good Love” and “The Waitress” were definitely the hardest. “The Waitress” is about a woman confronting her abusive ex, and I drew on a lot of my own experiences for that. “Good Love” was even harder though—it’s about starting to heal after sexual trauma. It came from a very personal place, and it took a long time and a lot of drafts to get right.

Of all the characters in this anthology, who would you most want to hang out with in person? Why?

I think I’d want to hang out with Sam from “Good Love.” She has a deep well of compassion and quiet joy. I have a feeling that hanging out with her would be a really lovely experience. Also, Tom from “Marlboro Man.” He’s all kinds of tragic, but he has a really solid, good core. He strikes me as a great guy to grab a drink with. Plus, he’s sexy. Tragically sexy.

You’ve written numerous short stories over the years, so I’m not surprised that we now get the joy of an entire collection of your work. (Squee!) How was it putting together an entire anthology rather than a short for various different anthologies? What’s your preference? Was it challenging to keep them tonally and/or thematically connected?

I really enjoy contributing to anthologies—it’s a wonderful, collaborative experience. That said, putting together my own collection has been amazing. It’s given me a chance to following narrative threads and possibilities that you just can’t in a single story.

As for keeping them tonally and thematically connected, I was lucky in that the setting provided a contextual link that united the themes in a very natural way. Same with the narrative tone, which is very different from my own. It’s almost as if the Styx (the town the collection is set in) has its own voice, and that voice told each story.

What was your biggest challenge in writing this anthology?

Finding balance. Some of the stories are light and even funny, while others are darker and more serious, sometimes even challenging. It took me a while to balance the light and the dark so that each story stands on its own, while contributing to a larger whole. That’s something that I was really conscious of—portraying a wide spectrum of kinks, sexualities and emotional contexts in a way that felt right and honest for each individual story, but also knit the stories together, even when one is about joyful sex in the back of a Camaro, and others are about everything from mortality and revenge to finding unexpected love.

You and I have talked a bit about craft. Would you share a little with readers how you develop a character, and then how you go about writing their tale?

I love our conversations about craft! This won’t come as any kind of surprise, but, for me, it’s all about the characters. I was formally trained as an actor and spent the better part of my twenties on stage, so every story starts with a character and something the character needs. Whether they’re male or female, straight or gay, the characters I write generally come to me like big blobs of clay. I have a general idea about shape and size, but I find out more as they take me through the story, so the story and the characters form each other, and I refine them both through revision. For me, drafting is a necessary first step, but the real writing happens in revision when the characters start coming to life.

Say one of your stories is auctioned off for a movie deal. Which one do you pick, and who are your lead actors to carry the roles?

Oh…that’s a great question. Let me think…okay, I’m going to go with “Marlboro Man,” only because it’s the one I have the biggest soft spot for. There’s a lot that gets implied but never quite said in that story, and I’d love to see how a film director went about unpacking it. Plus, I’d kind of love to see a young Paul Newman or Matthew McConaughey play Tom, and an actress like Emily Blunt play Maybelline. There’s so much interiority to both of them. It would be amazing to watch good actors bring that interiority to life.

I have the privilege of knowing that a bonus story was added to this collection, late in your work. Can you explain more about this story and why it was important to you to add it in?

Absolutely. The story is called “Good Love” and it’s the one I struggled with the most. It’s about a woman named Leigh who experienced trauma in her childhood and her relationship to her childhood best friend (and first love) Sam. There were two challenging elements in this story. The first is that Sam is a trans woman, which took me out of my immediate experience, so it felt especially important that I get her right. Luckily, Lana Fox and Jake Traveres at Go Deeper were incredibly helpful and supportive as I worked through finding and portraying her.

The second challenge was far more personal. Leigh’s struggle draws on my own experiences with trauma and recovery, so writing her was, at times, incredibly painful. In fact, I stopped more than once because of that. In the end though, it felt too important to leave out, so I made one last big push. Luckily, it worked and was able to go in.

Pick a line, any line…yes, one line that you really love from any story. Please share what it is and why you picked it!

Agh! That’s hard! Not because I’m in love with my own prose (because gah), but because the stories have been whittled down to the point where each line feels like a little brick in a large wall…. Okay. Let’s see. One line…. All right, this is the one that popped into my head. It’s from “Love in the Time of War,” which is about two women grieving the same man. Carly tells Sarah, her boyfriend’s widow, that she was always the pretty one, and Sarah responds by saying,

“There’s no pretty one, honey. Not between us.”

That line says everything I wanted to say about how lovely sex between two women can be. There’s a deep cultural emphasis on jealousy and possession in romantic relationships. Sarah’s response to Carly’s shy compliment subverts any notion of competition between them, and sets up the healing, comforting, meaningful sexual connection they then go on to make.

Any chance we’ll see an offshoot book and/or short in the future with any of these stories/characters involved?

There’s definitely a possibility. If nothing else, I love the setting so much that I could easily see writing something else set in that town. And just between you and me, I feel like Sam (from “Good Love”) and I still have quite a lot to do.

All right…inquiring minds want to know. What’s your favorite time of day to write and where?

My desk! I love my desk. I love my desk so much. As for my favorite time to write, it’s late at night, when the house is asleep, but having a 6-year-old makes being a night owl pretty impossible, so I write after I drop her off in the mornings, until I pick her up in the early afternoons.

What’s next for you?

It probably sounds boring, but the next thing for me is a little break. I put so much into writing this collection that it’ll feel good to rest a bit and do something completely different for a while. I’ll probably work on essays and stories in a different genre for a bit. Not that I’m closing the door on erotica. Erotica has been very good to me, and I’m definitely leaving that door open.

Wonderful! A giant thank you to Malin James for joining me today! Be sure to pick up your copy of Roadhouse Blues at one of the buy links below!

About Roadhouse Blues:

Welcome to Styx—a blue-collar, American town where people can do whatever they like, so long as they don’t advertise. From a 1950s diner to the back of a rocking Camaro, the stories in Roadhouse Blues reveal sex that is by turns romantic, raw, triumphant, and desperate. Meet two women grieving the same man, a bartender looking for anything but love, and a hot, brash newlywed who knows she married a cheat. The local garage is run by a kick-ass woman who gives as fierce as she gets, and the strip club is a place full of whiskey and smoke, where memories are exposed as easily as skin.

“In the end,” writes author Malin James, “sex is about people, and people have motivations, and sometimes those motivations surprise them.”

This is Roadhouse Blues. Surprise is just the beginning.

About Malin James:

Malin James is an essayist, blogger, and short story writer. Her work has appeared in Electric Literature, Bust, MUTHA, Queen Mob’s Tea House and Medium, as well as in podcasts and anthologies for Cleis Press, Sweetmeats Press and Stupid Fish Productions. Her first collection, Roadhouse Blues, releases this summer with Go Deeper Press.

Find a longer biography at

Buy Roadhouse Blues at: 

Go Deeper Press


B&N Nook


Cover for Show Yourself to Me

Show Yourself to Me – From the Fantastic Xan West!

Hi everyone! I’m thrilled to welcome Xan West today, a writer who has long impressed me as one willing to take risks and walk the edge. Xan’s fiction is always transgressive and bold, and, having had the opportunity to listen to a live reading, I can tell you Xan’s words will make you sit up in your seat.

Xan’s Show Yourself to Me is now out from Go Deeper Press—and I’m honored to be part of the blog tour for this collection. Xan is a writer who empowers with words and emotions that stand out in our genre, and this anthology is full of queer kink that explores power dynamics, consent, play, and community. The tour has been going on for a bit, so please be sure to check out the entire lineup of stops here, as well as Xan’s thoughtful, informative postings at Kink Praxis.

For now, I’m going to turn the floor over to Xan to share not only an intense excerpt, but a musing on a kink involving one of my favorite things: boots.

Take it away, Xan!

Cover for Show Yourself to Me

For the Love of Boots
By Xan West

Boots are one of my core kinks, and have been since the beginning. Boots are one of those kinks that can be really baffling to people, and bootlicking in particular is one of those things that lots of folks find deeply distasteful. One of my early online screen names was “bootlicker”, and it consistently garnered me both puzzled and squicked reactions.

From the outside it can get immediately read as being about humiliation, and sometimes it is. But there are so many other flavors of bootlicking. It can be about worship, or sex, or begging, or love, or service, or fetish, or submission, or dedication, or stubborn will, or gender, or getting the best shine possible. Like most kink acts, what you bring to it is really where the juice is.

When I write boots into my stories, I attempt to illuminate boot play in its specificity, to give the reader a clear sense of why this character is doing it and what it means to them. In the story “My Will,” a dominant chooses to kneel for the first time in fifteen years. He gave up submission after an abusive D/s relationship, and moved to the other side of the whip. He is drawn to submit to a man he trusts, who has offered a scene for his birthday, and rationalizes that it’s not a forever choice, more like a vacation.

I’m going to share an excerpt with you, that shows what boots mean to him in this particular scene. As a heads up, this excerpt includes D/s, boot care, boot worship, cock torture, rough body play, face fucking, consensual non-consent, and humiliation play.

An Excerpt from “My Will”

When I knelt to do his boots, it was like coming home. I savored every second of it, taking my time brushing on the saddle soap, carefully cleaning every inch of them. I had not even done my own boots in many years, much less anyone else’s. It was too dangerous, I had found: I got too trancey and submissive. I could let that happen in this space and time. I could let myself go there with this man I trusted immensely.

Flaming the polish was a delight. Bootblacking is such a sensual experience, and I wanted to take my time with it, relish every aspect. The scent of the polish, the dancing flames, the warmth of it on my fingers. The ritual was sacred, I knew that, each step vital to the whole. I applied two full coats of polish, shining it vigorously with the brush, pulling off my A-line shirt, ripping it in front of him, and using a piece of it to buff his boot. I lifted my gaze to meet his and asked permission. He stroked my cheek gently as he answered, and I closed my eyes so I might feel every millimeter of his hand on my skin.

I lick boots the old fashioned way: belly on the floor, as low as I can be. As I placed myself on the floor at his feet, I shivered. It felt so good to be here, to be worshipping the boots of this man I deeply respected. I was in his care, and he would be careful with me—I knew that. When I touched my lips reverently to his boot, I felt so full I could burst. This was exactly where I wanted to be. Tears fell onto the leather, and his boots soaked in their due. I could taste salt with the polish as I licked, pressing hard with my tongue, wanting him to feel it.

I had made myself forget what this tasted like, felt like. I concentrated hard on all of it, imprinting the memory of this lest it be the only time I would do it. His other boot came to rest on the back of my neck, and he used it to press my mouth down hard, groaning. He held me there for a good long time, his hand reaching down to stroke my hair, his bootheel digging into my shoulder. I didn’t want it to end. Then he lifted his boot from my neck and pulled my head up, telling me not to forget that the other boot needed care, too.

As I cleaned and polished, his hand stayed on my neck, calmly stroking. At some point, his boot snaked between my thighs and dug into my cock. I held my breath, gritted my teeth, and did my damnedest to remain focused on polishing his boot, to give it just as much care as I had given its brother. It was hard. The heel digging into my cock felt amazingly delicious, flawlessly excruciating. It took all I had to finish, and I could not be quiet while doing it. Growling moans kept fighting their way past my lips.

I lay on the ground again, pressing my lips into his boot, and felt him resting the sole of the other one on my back, pressing it into my skin, my naked belly on the dirty floor. It was heaven, and I began to tremble. So much, so intense, so exactly what I had been yearning for.

He pulled me up to my knees, suddenly, by the hair, tugged out his cock, and thrust it down my throat. It was amazing. I went from fifteen years of nothing to a glorious cock deep in my throat. I was gagging on it, tears seeping from my eyes, aching for him to use my mouth in exactly the way he needed. His hands gripped the back of my neck, and he rammed his dick as deep as it could go, relentlessly, selfishly, purely focused on his own need, growling, until he came, forcing me to swallow it, holding my mouth on his cock as he thrust repeatedly, until every drop was gone.

He released my neck, and his boot pushed me into the floor until I had my head pressed down onto it, his boot kicking my ass, ramming between my legs, stomping my thighs. It was brutal and intense and completely unexpected. I began to shiver, to scream no, and all he said was that no was not a safe word, and I better take it for him. His boots flattened me, kept me in the place I desperately ached to be, the place I feared with all of my heart.

He showed me exactly how much I wanted to be under his boot, how much I loved it. He made me say it to him, tell him I loved being under his boot, repeatedly, as he kicked me, dug the heels into me, hurt me with his boots. When I finally said it the way he wanted to hear it, he rewarded me by forcing my mouth onto the filthy floor. He made me lick it, to show him how much I appreciated his attention, his dominion, his boots showing me exactly where I belonged and what I loved.

I sobbed as I licked that dirty cold floor, the taste bitter and perfect, and he groaned, telling me my tears turned him on, that the sight of me under his boots was making him hard again, that if I did a good job he just might fuck me. Soon, I was licking salty wetness along with the grime on the ground, and I knew that I wanted to please him more than anything in the world. He was good enough to see inside me and give me exactly what I desperately ached for, and all I wanted to do was bring him a small portion of ease or pleasure.

He lifted my head and inspected the section I had been cleaning with my tongue, saying gruffly that I had done a good job on the floor, and on his boots, and that he thought I had the makings of a good boy in me. The universe stopped for a moment. All I could hear was those words of praise, and they slithered their way inside a shriveled place in my chest and watered it, just a little.


About the Book:

In Show Yourself to Me: Queer Kink Erotica, Xan West introduces us to pretty boys and nervous boys, vulnerable tops and dominant sadists, good girls and fierce girls and scared little girls, mean Daddies and loving Daddies and Daddies that are terrifying in delicious ways.

Submissive queers go to alleys to suck cock, get bent over the bathroom sink by a handsome stranger, choose to face their fears, have their Daddy orchestrate a gang bang in the park, and get their dream gender-play scene—tied to a sling in an accessible dungeon.

Dominants find hope and take risks, fall hard and push edges, get fucked and devour the fear and tears that their sadist hearts desire.

Within these 24 stories, you will meet queers who build community together, who are careful about how they play with power, who care deeply about consent. You will meet trans and genderqueer folks who are hot for each other, who mentor each other, who do the kind of gender play that is only possible with other trans and genderqueer folks.

This is Show Yourself to Me. Get ready for a very wild ride.

Find Show Yourself to Me at…

Go Deeper Press


Barnes and Noble


Please be sure to check out Xan’s next stop at Ashley Young‘s site tomorrow. And, don’t forget to pick up your copy of Show Yourself to Me today!


About Xan: 

Xan West is the nom de plume of Corey Alexander, a recent transplant to Oakland from Brooklyn, who has been doing community kink education for over ten years. Xan has been published in over 35 erotica anthologies, including the Best S/M Erotica series, the Best Gay Erotica series, and the Best Lesbian Erotica series. Xan’s story “First Time Since,” won honorable mention for the 2008 National Leather Association John Preston Short Fiction Award. Xan’s work has been described by reviewers as “offering the erotica equivalent of happy ever after” and as “some of the best transgressive erotic fiction to come along in recent years.”

Xan refuses pronouns, twists barbed wire together with yearning, and tilts pain in many directions to catch the light. Xan adores vulnerable tops; strong, supportive bottoms; red meat; long winding conversations about power, privilege, and community; showtunes; and cool, dark, quiet rooms with comfortable beds. Find Xan’s thoughts about the praxis of sex, kink, queerness, power, and writing at

Cover of Kristina Wright's Best Erotic Romance 2015

“Fertile” Is at Tamsin’s Superotica Today!

That’s right, everyone! Today I’ve jumped over to Tamsin’s Superotica with an exclusive excerpt from my upcoming story in Best Erotic Romance 2015, “Fertile.”

Cover of Kristina Wright's Best Erotic Romance 2015

This year’s edition includes “Fertile”!

Best Erotic Romance 2015 is set to release on Kindle on December 22nd, and on paperback a bit after that—but you can pre-order the anthology right now on Amazon. I’m tickled to be sharing pages with both of my Pillow Talk cohorts in this anthology edited by the lovely Kristina Wright, and today I’m extra thrilled that Tamsin has asked to feature a snippet of my story on her hot Christmas advent calendar!

So, please head on over to Tamsin’s place right now. I hope you enjoy the excerpt of “Fertile” you’ll find there, as well as all the other sexy pieces she’s featuring in her Christmas countdown. It’s seriously smokin’ this year, and I’m so happy to have been a part.

Happy holidays!


Cover of Wrapped Around Your Finger by Alison Tyler

Wrapped Up in Fantasies with Alison Tyler

Got your attention, now, didn’t I? 😉 Well, good—because today I’m hosting the next stop on Alison Tyler’s Wrapped Around Your Finger tour!

Alison Tyler is a brilliant author of many stories, but her Submission series is simply unbeatable. In case you missed the first two books, Dark Secret Love and The Delicious TormentI reviewed the pair of them right here. I’m bouncing off the walls to read the third, as I’m sure you are, too—and so it is with great pleasure that I turn the floor over to Ms. Tyler, so that she can tease us with her thoughts on fantasy as well as a seriously dirty, smokin’ hot excerpt. *Wipes brow.* It’s good, guys, so good!

Now there’s only one question—are you ready?

I sure hope so.

Here’s Alison!


Cover of Wrapped Around Your Finger by Alison Tyler

Step into My Fantasy

The word “fantasy” appears in 1,192 files on my computer.

The word “fantasies” appears in 1117.

I don’t know why I like to check things like that, but I do. (“Bondage” appears in 892 files. “Spanking” appears in 1218. Just in case—like me—you were curious.)

But back to fantasies, daydreams, mental vacations—whatever you want to call the activity—I am a goner. I see a woman pass me on the street, and immediately I fantasize about who might be waiting for her at home. I entertain myself by describing what her bedroom looks like. Even the books she might have on her bedside table. All day long, I write little stories for so many people I pass in my life.

For strangers I run into on a regular basis, I continually build on the fantasy. There’s a vampire I watch at my favorite coffee shop, and a silver fox I’m writing a shifter tale about.

Fantasies are an important theme for the characters in my fiction, as well. How could this not be so? If I am a 24/7 walking fantasy-mill, then it goes to figure that the people I create would share this characteristic with me.

Here’s a snip from Wrapped Around Your Finger:

“I know you want to,” Jack said. “I’m only going to make your deepest, darkest fantasies come true.”

“What fantasies?” I had to ask. What did Jack think my fantasies were?

“We’ll have the big back room at the restaurant,” Jack said. “When we arrive, you’ll strip down and get on your knees. I want you to service each man there.”


“With your mouth, baby. With your mouth. I want you to suck them all until they’re rock hard and ready. Your mouth is so sublime. I feel guilty that I’ve been so greedy with you. I should have been sharing this whole time. When the men experience that wet heat on their Johnsons, well. There’s no saying what will happen. I’ll have to take charge, to make sure they go slow. Then we’ll really see what you’re good for.”

Was Jack fucking with me? I couldn’t find my voice, couldn’t figure out where to look. Jack’s eyes were giving me no clear message. I sensed no level of teasing now. I stared down at the plate.

“And then?” I managed to ask, directing my query more to my food than to Jack.

“You want me to spell out everything, don’t you?”

I nodded. I could feel the throb in my sex. My clit was swollen, my pussy sodden. I wouldn’t have thought that those words would have turned me on so much. But Jack was spelling out desires I had never confronted in the past.

“We’ll spread you out on the table, and we’ll go to work. One man will eat your cunt while you suck another cock. We’ll get you so you don’t know if you’re coming or going. You won’t know which way is up. By the end, Sam, you’ll be this mess of longing, and we’ll take you exactly where you need to go.”

Where? I wanted to cry out. Where do I need to go, Jack?

“You’ll have a man in your pussy, a man in your ass and one in your mouth. You can do that, can’t you, Sam? You can take three at a time. I’m sure you can. Ultimately, you should be able to take more. A cock in each fist, perhaps. But tomorrow, there will only be three. You’d do that for me, wouldn’t you?”

I didn’t know how to respond. Was this one more of Jack’s tests, the type that had no correct answer? If I said I’d do what he wanted, then I was as good as stamping the word HARLOT on my passport. If I declined, if I lied and said his story hadn’t turned me on, then I’d be denying one of Jack’s commands. Plus, all he’d have to do is touch me between my legs to know the truth.

“Look at you,” Jack said lovingly. “You’re a mess already.”


Oh. My. God. YES!

Was that not the hottest excerpt ever? I’m telling you, this third installment is going to be incredible! Be sure to grab your copy on Amazon right now!

As for me—off to


Alison Tyler has been called “a trollop with a laptop” by the East Bay Express, “a literary siren” by Good Vibrations, and “a hell of a writer” by Violet Blue. She is the editor of more than seventy-five anthologies for publishers including Pretty Things Press, Cleis, Plume, and Harlequin. Her novels include Dark Secret Love, The Delicious Torment and Wrapped Around Your Finger, which is the third in the “Submission Series” published by Cleis Press. Visit her at and follow her at


Red T-shirt with "Team Sandy" tagline

Team Sandy and the Those Boys Blog Tour!

Okay, everyone…I told you this month was packed full of fireworks, and today I’ve got some serious sizzle!

Why? Today is my lucky day—not only is it my stop on the Those Boys Blog Tour, but I have a very special guest. And no it’s not the brilliant author, the incredible Alison Tyler who wrote this delicious novelette. Nope, nope, nope. It’s someone else.

See, one of the main reasons Those Boys (and the novelette that preceded it, Those Girls) is so amazing is because of Alison Tyler’s authentic and rich portrayal of a true Dom. Did you catch us chattering about this on our Pillow Talk session on Tuesday? If not, here’s a recap—Tyler has made Sandy engaging, hot, and compassionate. She hasn’t made a two-dimensional stereotype of a Dom; instead she’s written someone who cares about his subs, and who is interested in exploring not just their bodies but their minds. Because of all of this, she’s done the number one most important thing that has made everyone stand up and take notice:

She’s made him real—so real in fact, that Sandy is who I have here today!

Yes, it’s true. And oh, am I excited to share this interview with you! So, please read on to hear Sandy’s thoughts on some very pressing questions…

The gorgeous Those Boys cover! Courtesy of Go Deeper Press

The gorgeous Those Boys cover! Courtesy of Go Deeper Press


The Exclusive Sandy Interview

Oh, Sandy, Sandy, Sandy…thank you so much for joining me, and for answering all my questions. Let us begin…with where you started. How long have you been a Dom, and how did you get into the lifestyle?

That’s like asking a person how he or she got to be tall. Or blue eyed. Or Irish. I am a Dom because I’m a Dom. That said… there is a story to the beginning. At least, to the time when I decided to embrace what I knew lived inside me rather than try to fight those intense desires. I surrendered. Perhaps most Doms won’t admit this, but that’s how it was for me. I gave in.

You’ll hear all about my beginning in Those Days [the prequel]. It started with a girl—the way these stories often do. She slid me an opener. I grabbed it in my fist.

So tell me—what about the lifestyle most appeals to you?

Honesty is everything. Participants in the BDSM lifestyle are honest about what they want, need, crave, require. I demand honesty from my partners. That’s the foundation on which I build.

And when you meet a new sub that you know you must connect with, what’s the first thing that goes through your mind?

“What can I do for you?” Perhaps, that has a submissive sound to the cadence. But that is how I think. How can I help you? And of course: How can I hurt you?

[Catching my breath.] Um, Sandy, do you prefer a switch or a pure sub? Or does it even matter?

Doesn’t matter. I want truth. I want to know what turns you on, what makes you hard or wet. I want to know. If you must exert your strength, your stamina, your power every so often, then so be it. I will bend. I will bow. I will be yours however you need me.

Let’s say you could freeze a moment of your connection with your subs, Vanessa and Rem, in a photograph. What would it be? And would it be in black and white or color, and why?

A Polaroid. You knew I was going to say that, didn’t you? But not just one Polaroid. A series. A strip-tease. Each click of the camera capturing a step forward. A kiss. A caress. A peeling back. Until we are undone and undressed. Naked in every sense of the word.

Wow. Your words are one of your greatest, most entrancing traits. Of all the things you’ve said to Vanessa, Jake, and Rem (or any other sub over the years), what have you said that has elicited the strongest response (in your opinion)?

Trust me.

[Gulping.] So…what’s your favorite: paddle, belt, flogger, quirt, crop, or…?

The situation decides the weapon. Sometimes the feel of a paddle in my hand sings to me like nothing else. Other times, I know I can’t go wrong with a flogger. But if I had to choose only one, I’d choose my belt. Utilitarian. Deceptively simple. With me at almost all times. For those hard-to-reach situations.

All right. You can take Rem and Vanessa anywhere for as long as you want. Where do you go, and why?

Dive bar on the corner with the neon sign in the window. Eleven o’clock tonight. Jukebox. Leather booth. Top-shelf tequila. Until last call.

I’m a simple man.

You rarely blush. What would make you blush, if anything?

I’ll admit to making mistakes. Rarely happens, but I won’t hide. The flush you’ll occasionally see along my jaw is my anger at myself, not embarrassment for fucking up. Disappointment in myself. I’m far more lenient on others than I am when I turn my attention inward. Isn’t it always that way?

True. Now, Vanessa and Rem would do anything to please you because you care so much for them. If you were to come home to the sweetest surprise from them—they anticipated exactly what you’d want without you needing to articulate it—what would it be?

A new playmate. Wrapped up in a silver ribbon.

Oh Sandy…I’m sorry to say it’s time for our final question. What is your deepest desire—in ten words or less?

I want to live inside your head. Invite me in.


Oh my goodness…I don’t know about all of you, but that last answer—wow. Sandy is, in my opinion, one of the greatest characters I’ve ever read. So in case it needs to be stated, this is 100% me:

Team Sandy t-shirt

Need a little more convincing? Here’s the official blurb:

What are the chances? Bisexual dom Sandy meets Rem in his local horse-and-tack store while shopping for a quirt. He’s instantly taken by Rem’s shocking good looks and the way he struts around in an old Western-style shirt. “A preening peacock” Sandy calls him, before announcing, in the hottest of ways, what narcissists like Rem deserve.

Sandy brings Rem home to Vanessa (Those Girls) where all three enjoy intensely erotic BDSM sex, with Sandy pushing everyone’s boundaries in ways they want and he knows they need.

But Rem proves to be a mystery that even Sandy can’t quite crack. What does the boy really desire? And if it isn’t Sandy and Vanessa, what will the consequences be?

This novelette is divine, everyone. Be sure to pick up your copy as soon as you can. It officially comes out tomorrow, but you can get it from Go Deeper Press right now!

Do not miss out!


About Alison Tyler:

Called a “Trollop with a Laptop” by East Bay Express, Alison Tyler is naughty and she knows it. Her sultry short stories have appeared in more than 100 anthologies including Coupling edited by Sommer Marsden and Sex for America edited by Stephen Elliott. She is the author of more than 25 erotic novels, most recently Dark Secret Love and The Delicious Torment, and Wrapped Around Your Finger (soon to be released). She is also the editor of more than 75 explicit anthologies, including Alison’s WonderlandNever Say Never, and 69. Visit 24/7 as she’s a total insomniac.



Cover of A.M. Hartnett's Uncover Me

A.M. Hartnett is Here!

Exciting news, everyone! Today I have a special guest—the wonderful A.M. Hartnett!

A.M. Hartnett and I have been chattering for a few months now, and she’s someone I look up to in the erotica world—she’s cool, she’s clever, and she’s a damn good writer. She’s also sassy and funny as all hell, which basically wins me right over. 🙂

A.M. is on a wild tour right now for not one, but THREE books, and I’m delighted she’s here to talk with us about all of them. The first book is a standalone erotic romance called Uncover Me, for which she’s shared a smokin’ hot blurb, and the other books form the first two-thirds of her Carried Away series. Lucky for us, I managed to wrangle her into an interview to ask a few questions about the books, her process, and some other nifty facts about her.

Thanks for coming by today, A.M.!

So, let’s start with Uncover Me, which was just released last month. I love that the book has such a fun exhibitionist premise. Carrie Thorn is an exhibitionist with a capital E—she likes to take naughty photos and post them on a blog. What inspired her character?

One word: Tumblr. As I mentioned at my post over at Mischief, I had been alerted to the existence of Tumblr’s sex blog community by Rachel Kramer Bussel and became an instant fan. My favourites are the ones of real people showing off, and that’s where Carrie came from.

Tell us more about Carrie’s blog—is she no holds barred or constantly getting wilder with her pics? How did you come up with such an idea? (It’s fabulous.)

When we first meet Carrie, it’s a solo project. She likes frilly things and showing off her body, occasionally bringing toys into the mix. As the first line says, she doesn’t consider it porn. I wouldn’t say she’d consider it art or photography, either. That’s pretty reflective about my feeling about the sex blogs I follow. Yes, they’re visually stimulating, but oftentimes they’re more erotic than in-your-face and she’s doing it because it turns her on to do it. She likes the idea of her readers getting horny while they look at her pictures.

What is Carrie’s favorite photo posted on her blog?

I think if you were to ask Carrie, she would never be able to come up with one single picture, though after she meets Brendan she’d probably give the gold star to the picture that brought her to his blog

‘You weren’t completely naked. Your bra was pushed down to your ribs and your panties were twisted around your knees. You had your hand between your legs. It was like you were waiting for someone. I got so hard thinking about what came next I unzipped right there in my office and jerked off.’ He shook himself and looked at her. His smile turned mischievous. ‘You’re blushing.’

‘Of course.’

Hot. Brendan sounds like the perfect partner for Carrie’s kink. Can you tell us a little about the moment they meet (without giving it all away, of course)?

They have two meetings: the online meeting and then the face to face. Carrie indulges in her kink at work one day and accidentally gets a shot of a local landmark in the background. Oops. Brendan recognizes it immediately and sends her a hello, along with a naughty offering of his own, and manages to convince her to meet him somewhere public. It’s pretty unnerving for Carrie – she knows right from the start that Brendan is interested in being more than friends, and already knows her most intimate secret. As he points out after some back and forth, they’ve met for sex.

Now I’m curious…if Carrie met Brendan while speed dating, would she find him as intriguing as she does when he finds out her secret?

Probably not. Brendan is good looking, and she might take a second look, but as she puts it :

Close up, she could see the lines around his mouth and a few flecks of grey in his hair. He was about her age, maybe a couple of years older, and definitely someone she would have given a second glance if they had passed one another on the street.

She’s never look at him and think, ‘This is the man who will breathe life back into me,” because before Brendan, she refuses to think that way about any man.

Thanks for sharing about Uncover Me! But, I also want to know more about the Carried Away series. In the first book, the protagonist, Grace, is all about misbehaving around the office—until she finds out that her boss, Taureau, has been watching her on hidden cameras. He asks her to give him a show and she says yes—what about him makes her willing to do it?

She definitely likes to hear him talk lol. As soon as he makes his presence known, he uses the only thing in his arsenal, his voice, to twist her into knots. Aside from the sexy voice, he also manages to convey a potent amount of confidence for someone who has been scarred physically and emotionally, and at the same time Grace recognizes his loneliness: he’s reaching out not just because he liked to watch her but because he likes her and wants to get to know her at a safe distance.

‘You’re not married.’ It was a statement, not a question.

She shrugged. ‘I prefer my independence.’

‘As do I. Some people just don’t get it, do they? Like the mother you were talking to earlier. She doesn’t understand why someone would choose to be alone.’

‘I don’t –’ She caught herself before she could tell him she didn’t choose to be alone. She simply was alone, because that was the life she had made. She had very few regrets, and when she did they were fleeting.

‘I have people in my life like that,’ he said, and laughed. It was a cynical sound he seemed to cover up after a moment. ‘Though I suppose it would be absurd to compare our situations, wouldn’t it? There’s a big difference between thriving on constant activity like you do and . . . well, me. Still, there’s something to be said for solitude, isn’t there, Miss Neely?’

I’m a sucker for a good voice, so this is right up my alley. 🙂 I’m also tickled that Taureau sends a stand-in man while he’s away (Grace is one lucky girl). Can you tell us more about Simon? Has he always been such a great…um…assist for his boss?

Oh, Simon. Le sigh. He’s the guy who made the series a series. I couldn’t just let him get away. *I* wanted to know more. There’s so much going on with Simon that the reader won’t get more than a hint at until the final book when I tell his story. He’s Taureau’s oldest friend in addition to being his stand-in (in and out of Grace’s bed) and seems content to do so, but there’s so much more to him than I show in the first two books.

Love that! Also, I noticed this series has alternate POVs in each book—but at the same location. Did you plan this from the start? I remember seeing on Facebook that you weren’t originally planning a series—what made you choose this route rather than a progression?

The Deep End, the first book, was supposed to be a one-shot deal. Grace and Taureau’s story began and ended in that book, but as I was writing Quinn and Molly’s story next, guess who crashed the party? Simon Reeve. Rather than chase him off, I just let him in on the fun (and what fun it is …)

So, in short, I chased Simon through three books. I grabbed him and shook him and asked “WHO ARE YOOOOOUUU AND WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH MEEEEE?” Apparently the answer is that he wanted his happy ending, too.

Apparently! So…what was the most exciting part of writing this series?

Definitely revisiting old characters. The thrill started when Simon appeared in Holding My Breath, and continued as I said hello to Taureau and Grace again in Breaking Through. The latter was quite special, as I was able to delve a little deeper into Taureau and Simon’s bromance and look at how they supported one another beyond what Grace observes in The Deep End. As well, readers get a glimpse of where Quinn and Molly ended up after their HEA.

Of all of these characters, who was your favorite to write, and why?

While Simon is my special little pet, Jacques was definitely my favourite to write. For one, I had no idea who he was when I started The Deep End, I only knew that I was writing a book and also the most alpha male I’d ever conceived. I discovered how strong he was and how sensitive he could be. It was so interesting to watch him through Grace’s eyes and watch him struggle and conquer over and over again, and coming back to him in Breaking Through to see how he’s doing was a treat for me.

I heard you had awesome photos for real places in The Deep End. When can we see them?

The Deep End takes place in the fictional Convent House, not far from Shediac, New Brunswick. Technically 😉 I picked this location primarily because I love driving through it, but as for the actual Convent House, it’s a few hours away in Avondale, Nova Scotia, and it’s really The Mission House. Check out this link to see the inspiration the hideaway Jacques brings to when their digital affair ends and things get physical between them.

That is gorgeous! Wow! Okay…now I think it’s time for everyone to learn a little more about you! Let’s talk process—do you tend to work on one story at a time, or do you have your hands dirtied (heh) with many projects all at once?

If I’m not contracted on anything, I’m usually plotting about five potential projects, but once I settle on something and it’s on, it’s on. I don’t write linear, but I wouldn’t say I’m all over the place, either. I kind of look upon my writing process as a jigsaw puzzle: I work in chunks until I get a tidy square to work in, and then I just put the picture together wherever I see a connection.

And the ever-important writer drink question: coffee or something stronger while you work?

No coffee while writing. The only time I do coffee these days is first thing in the morning (and you will pry my morning coffee from my cold, dead hands). While I’m writing, it’s going to be good old black tea.

You just won a ticket to fly wherever you want to write for a month, all expenses paid! Where do you go?

Nope, nope, nope, nope. No writing on vacation. This is one of my rules: if I go away, all work ceases. Why waste a perfectly good vacation on work? So give me your money and send me to the south of France, and damn well expect me to come back with a tan and a twenty year-old toy boy named Pascal.

Please be sure to tell me all about that. In the meantime, what are you reading right now, and what do you prefer to read?

I’m on a non-fiction kick right now, which is the first time this has happened in a long time. I’m reading all about the public enemies of the depression era South & Midwest – Bonnie and Clyde, Dillinger, Pretty Boy Floyd, etc. I also just finished the absolutely wonderful Alias Hook by Lisa Jensen, about Captain Hook in Neverland. Highly recommended!

I never know what’s going to catch my eye, or what’s going to surprise me, so I’ll pretty much give anything a shot.

Fair enough. Now, final question—because I’m a fiend—what’s your favorite candy?

Reese’s Peanut Butter cups (do people actually pick something other than Reese when asked this question?). Actually, put peanut butter and chocolate together in any scenario and I’m happy. Ice cream? Bring it. Cheesecake? Oh yeah. Slathered all over Nick Youngquest’s naked body? Come to meeeee.

*Snort.* Okay, do you all see why I love A.M. Hartnett? I’m just so happy to have had her here. And now, she’s passed along a sexy excerpt and blurb for Uncover Me!

Cover of Uncover Me by A.M. Hartnett


Fuckable, he’d said.

She felt fuckable. The insides of her thighs were slicker than ever and her clit throbbed with need. She wanted to bring the house down with him pounding her.

Once inside she led the way, following the orange glow to her bedroom where she had left the light on. He nudged her over the threshold and, as she shrugged out of her coat, she heard the click of the bedroom door locking.

Such a strange thing to do, she thought, and then she realised that the small sound represented her willing captivity. The closed door barred them from the outside world. In this room, in this tidy little box with its white walls and splashes of colour, with the imposing bed beckoning her, she was his fantasy and he was hers.

She turned and found Brendan leaning against the door. His dark eyes glittered beneath his heavy lids. ‘Take it all off. Slowly.’

‘No cameras?’

‘Maybe later. Right now I don’t particularly feel like sharing.’ He reached up and loosened his tie. ‘Strip.’

Carrie turned her back on him. The descent of her zipper from the middle of her back to her ass seemed to take for ever. Goose flesh rose as she wriggled out of it. Behind her came the sinful whisper of his clothes being peeled away from his body, then the crinkle of a condom wrapper.

The urge to turn around and look at him made her ache as she unhooked her bra. She tossed it aside and placed her hands on her hips, waiting.

He came up behind her and from the corner of her eye she saw the flash of red. He had her paddle in his hand. She suppressed a shudder.

‘I want you on the bench at the end of the bed. On your knees, grasping the footboard. Show me your ass.’


He scraped his teeth against the curve of her shoulder. ‘Carrie.’

‘Remember what I said about pain.’

‘I remember.’ His fingertips dug in. ‘But you want a little, don’t you? You bought this. I won’t hurt you. Trust me. Go on.’

Trust me.

In her head, she heard his voice chant this over and over as she did what she had been told.



There’s a heart inside every fantasy.

The photos are becoming a compulsion for Carrie. As soon as she wakes up, she feels the need to engage with the readers of her erotic website, Dirty Pictures. No matter how hard she tries to focus on her real life the need is always there. The high is knowing that men desire her.

One day a comment on her erotic website makes Carrie go cold: one of her readers, Brendan, has recognised a landmark in the window of one of her pictures. Brendan knows where to find her and has sent a tantalising private message. His invitation to play was so tempting in no time at all, in a variety of settings, their sensual adventures become wild. Her sexual and emotional reawakening reaches peaks she never imagined possible.

But Carrie finds it difficult to treat their relationship as casual. Terrified of heartbreak, she breaks off her affair with Brendan. Her previous relationship left her in tatters and she’s too scared to take such a chance again. Brendan endured a broken marriage so she’s not alone in her confusion and reticence. But can Carrie ever hope to be more than his fantasy girl?

Buy Links

Uncover Me

The Deep End (Book 1 of the Carried Away Series)

Holding My Breath ( Book 2 of the Carried Away Series)

Want to know more about AM Hartnett?

You can find her at :

Thanks so much for joining us and sharing, Annemarie! I encourage everyone to check out all three of these books!


The Accidental Cougar Blog Tour!

While researching the adult industry one day, I discovered that—according to various escort classifications—I am a mere month away from being a cougar.

This was a little surprising to me as I’m about to turn 35, and while I expect I might end up part-cougar one day, I was sure I was still a puma (cougar in training) until at least 40!

Fortunately, I wasn’t fazed. I have always admired cougars, both on film and in print—and this is why I’m excited about my guest and her new book! The sweet and legendary Sommer Marsden is here, and today, she’s going to tell us about vulnerability, house parties, and one super sexy cougar and cub pairing.

So without further adieu…take it away, Sommer!

Cover of The Accidental Cougar by Sommer Marsden

Vulnerable is a scary word…

In The Accidental Cougar Abbey finds herself vulnerable in many ways. Some of them aren’t really under her control. For instance, how she’s beginning to feel about young, handsome Charlie despite how many reasons her racing mind can supply not to. Others, she finds herself submitting to willingly despite nervousness. She trusts Charlie so she makes herself vulnerable in situations that seem completely foreign to a forty-something woman who’s been with the same man for more than half her life.

Such as a house party.

The house party scene finds Abbey surrounded by people much younger than herself and trying hard to fit in without pretending to be someone she’s not. A difficult position that would leave even the most stoic of us struggling.

Ironically, this wasn’t a hard scene to write. When it comes to large parties with lots of people I don’t know I can give social anxiety a run for its money. When I wrote it, I’d also just watched one of my favorite 80’s movies Jennifer 8 and felt that Christmas Eve party scene served as good inspiration for how turned around and upside down Abbey was feeling.



From THE ACCIDENTAL COUGAR by Sommer Marsden


“Ladies, this is Charlie’s date, Abby. Abby, this is my girlfriend Beverly.” The long legged, brunet with startling blue eyes nodded. She was decked out in skinny jeans, ankle boots and a gray sweater that played up those eyes to perfection.

She smiled at me but the smile didn’t touch her eyes. “And this is Dan’s girl Angie. And here we have Shea, Kendall’s girlfriend.” The two blondes turned to eye me up. Both gave equally stiff smiles and they muttered “hi”.

“I’m taking Charlie boy down to bail first. Otherwise I won’t get a day’s work out of him,” Ken said.

Charlie had found us and he gave me a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right back.”

I could feel the three witches—I mean girls—watching me and I had to think fast. “Do you mind showing me to the powder room before you go?”

One of the girls slid her eyes my way and I held my breath when she said, “Oh, I can show her, Charlie.”

Charlie felt my arm go tense. I’d looped it through his just for the contact. I hated this.

Hated feeling out of place. Hated feeling desperate not to be alone with people. I’d conquered my mild social anxiety years ago. When you have young kids you can’t be shy. But this—this was worse than anything I’d ever encountered. I felt ready to bolt like a frightened horse.

“That’s okay, Bev. It’s on the way.” He maneuvered me through the candle and flashlight lit home. People banged into us, some laughing too hard, some caught in quiet conversation.

“Please don’t leave me,” I said. I felt my face grow hot and red with blush. Thank God he couldn’t see.

We stopped in front of the bathroom. Someone had thought to put a tall sconce with a candle inside on the sink. That way no one would drown in the toilet.

“It’s fine. I promise. I’ll go bail.” He waved his Solo cup and laughed. “Take my turn, do my duty and come rescue you. Then we can find a dark corner and make out. It’ll be really dirty and fun.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. That part of the scenario sounded nice. The part where he’d go bail and leave me up here, not so much. I sighed. “I’ll be fine. I’m being a baby.”

He hugged me, kissed me once on the lips while someone by the basement steps yelled, “Charlie! No escaping your man-duty, dude!”

“I’ll be right back, Ace. Promise.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said, lying full-on to his face.

I went to the bathroom, watched myself in the large vanity mirror as I washed my hands.

I looked younger in the candlelight. Maybe I could carry a candle around on all my dates with Charlie.

Tears pricked my eyes. “Stop the pity party, Ace,” I said to myself in the mirror. The crazy yellow-orange flickering glow matched how tumultuous I felt inside. “You’re a grown woman who should be able to stand with a handful of twenty-somethings and have a conversation. Even if you’re faking it.”

Instead of leaving, I sat on the edge of the tub and tried to let time pass. So what if they thought I’d died in here? So what if I’d told Charlie I’d try and have fun but instead had tucked myself away from the party? So what?

Someone banged on the door and I jumped. I glanced at my phone’s illuminated screen.

Only about ten minutes had passed but it was long enough that people were probably waiting to come in.

“Yo! Someone needs to get in there!” the mystery person called.

“Coming!” I yelled. I stood, inhaled deeply and opened the door.

A guy with his cap on backwards ushered a girl inside. She wasn’t looking too steady on her feet and judging by the way she lurched toward the toilet, she wasn’t feeling too steady either. I managed to slip out the door before the retching began.

Since it was dark and only lit by splashes of orange candle glow or stark white flashlight illumination, I seemed to ping-pong from cluster of people to cluster of people. I took a left thinking I’d find the girls again—not that I was in any hurry to see them, but instead I found myself by the front door. I overheard someone say, “…as old as my mom. At least.”

I turned on my heels and tried the opposite direction.

They’re not necessarily talking about you. I tried to talk myself down but I wasn’t buying it. Who else would they be talking about? I hadn’t seen any other forty-somethings here at this noisy house party. Just me and a bunch of kids.


What would be the harm in a little fling? What would be so bad about bedding a young man who could technically be my son? He wasn’t my son. He wasn’t my anything. But he could possibly, if I could unclench my ass long enough, be my lover.

My lover.

What was so bad?


Buy Links:




All Romance Ebooks:


Author Bio:

Professional dirty word writer, gluten free baker, sock addict, fat wiener dog walker, expert procrastinator. Called “one of the top storytellers in the erotic genre” by Violet Blue, Sommer Marsden writes for HarperCollins Mischief, Ellora’s Cave, Excessica, Xcite Books and Resplendence Publishing. She’s the author of numerous erotic novels including Lost in You, Restricted Release, Boys Next Door, Restless Spirit, and Learning to Drown. Visit


Thanks so much for joining us, Sommer!

And oh, I can’t wait to get my hands on this one! (Or to potentially be a cougar, for that matter.)




Tamsin Flowers's bio pic - black and white of woman crossing legs

Tamsin Flowers is Visiting For Breakfast…With a Sexy New Book!

There I was, eating my first breakfast (I’m a big eater), and then it hit me:

The lovely Tamsin Flowers is coming over for breakfast two!

You may remember Tamsin from her charming novella The Christmas Tattoo, or even from her crazy sexy zombie erotica collection, Zombie Erotoclypse. Either way, you’re in for a treat! Tamsin brought her hot buns over for some…well, hot buns (gluten free, for me), and she’s here to talk about her spicy new novel, Her Boss and His Client.

Over mimosas, of course!

Drinks are ready and our special guest has arrived. She’s got a hot excerpt and some thoughts on the pleasures of greed. Talk about perfect mimosa conversation! 🙂

Take it away, Tamsin!


Is it greedy to want two men?

Short answer: yes, of course it bloody is! But can we forgive a girl when she just can’t decide between two luscious hunks of masculine charm? Of course we can! Sometimes it’s just too difficult to decide who we want most. Sometimes we’d like a bit of variety in our love life. But trying to juggle multiple lovers can become decidedly difficult…

This is just the dilemma that faces advertising copywriter Dana Lewis, the heroine of my latest release, Her Boss and His Client. When a bad news affair with the boss turns sour, Dana is forced to find a new job. And she goes into work on the first day with every intention of behaving as she should. No more affairs with work colleagues. No more sex in the office. Only that’s before she meets her new superior, Jack Brent. Devastatingly good-looking, charisma leaks out of this man like sweat and she doesn’t even get through her first day at work without having thoroughly naughty thoughts about him. And, it soon becomes apparent, he’s having naughty thoughts of his own!

But if fraternizing with her new boss wasn’t bad enough, Dana also develops a ‘thing’ for their most important client, travel tycoon Nathan Drake—suave, sophisticated and totally loaded. Not to mention, Jack’s polar opposite in the bedroom!

So, can it really be so wrong for her to want both of them?

Here’s an excerpt:

Jack seemed to sense my concerns and he got up from his chair and came across to where I was sitting.  He stood in front of me, looking down with a serious expression on his face.  Then he bent a little to take the wine glass from my hand and put it down on his desk.

‘Dana,’ he said, so quietly I almost had to strain to hear him.  ‘You’re going to be fine here.’

He dropped to his knees and before I realised what was happening he’d cupped my face in his hands.

‘You’re going to be brilliant.’

He stared at me intensely again; those gold-flecked eyes only inches from my own.

‘We’re going to be brilliant together.’

I wasn’t quite sure what he meant but I know I moved my face forward a fraction of an inch.  I didn’t mean to but he did the same.  I could feel his warm, wine scented breath on my cheeks.

‘Oh, Dana,’ he whispered, shaking his head.

If I was reading his expression right, he was conflicted over what to do next.  He still held my face in his hands, still held my eyes with his and I watched as his tongue darted out to moisten his lips.  My core muscles tightened with desire as a small sigh escaped my lips.


He put a finger on my lips and shook his head.  His look said all that needed to be said and when he took the finger away he immediately replaced it with his lips, softly brushing my own.

That first kiss, always a heart-stopping moment, seared itself like a brand on my conscious and sub-conscious mind.  His lips were soft but he plundered my mouth as if it were treasure for the taking. They moulded themselves to mine and then I felt the tip of his tongue slowly running along first my upper lip and then the lower.  At the corner of my cupid’s bow, it breached the gap and as my mouth opened willingly to give him access, I heard a low groan emitting from deep within his throat.  Then his tongue touched mine and greedily exploring the cavern of my mouth.  He tasted of wine and he smelt of figs and sandalwood and myrrh.

I pushed back with my tongue to gain entrance to his mouth, barely able to sit still in the chair as my body struggled to get closer to his.  His stubble ground against my chin and my cheeks, adding to the sensation in direct contrast to the softness of his tongue and the hard, smooth surfaces of his teeth.  I wanted to kiss him forever, to never come up for air.  I took a handful of chestnut hair at the back of his head to hold him steady as my mouth quite literally devoured him.

‘Dana…’  He pulled back from me.  ‘We shouldn’t… we can’t be doing this.  I barely know you.’

‘But you know you want me.’  My voice sounded different in my ears, thickened with desire, my breath coming in short gasps.

‘But we have to work together.’

He was right.  I took a deep breath and looked into his liquid caramel eyes.

‘I’d better go,’ I managed to blurt out.

Jack stood up and moved back to be out of my way.  I got up and straightened my skirt.  I was so wet; I had been so ready for what had been about to happen.  Having to stop felt like a kick in the guts.  My legs turned to jelly and I had to steady myself by gripping the arm of the chair.

‘Are you alright, Dana?’

I wasn’t drunk, so I don’t know if that makes what happened next better or worse.

‘Jack, you started something.  Now I need you to goddamn finish it.’

I could hardly believe the words which were coming out of my mouth and, by the look on his face, I don’t think Jack could either.

I took a step towards him and reached out with my hand.  The bulge in his jeans was clear to see and when I touched it, I felt his cock twitch in response through the denim.

When our lips met again, the kiss was anything but gentle.  Jack’s tongue pushed its way as far into my mouth as he could get it and it twisted with mine as our teeth clashed.  At the same time his hands were pulling at the front of my blouse, ripping it open and wrenching it out from the top of my skirt.  As he pushed up my bra to release my breasts, I stepped back so I could lean against his desk for support.  His mouth pulled away from mine and trailed kisses down my throat as his hands kneaded my chest.

I gasped.  I was so turned on and I needed to get him inside me fast.  My hands were on his belt buckle but he pulled away.

‘Lie back,’ he commanded, sweeping papers, files and stationery off his desk and onto the floor.

I lay back on the cold, hard surface and felt Jack pushing up my skirt.

‘Stockings, Dana!  You have no idea what they do to me.’ I could feel his warm breath on my belly as he said this and then, as he yanked off my panties, lower down.

‘Spread ‘em,’ he said, and I opened my legs as wide as I could, letting them hang over the edge of the desk.

So Jack Brent liked to be in charge, in control.  I raised my hips to offer myself to him and felt his mouth take possession of my cunt.  First, he kissed it gently, like he’d kissed my mouth; running his tongue up one side and down the other, tasting my juices, learning my shape.  Then he pushed his tongue deep inside me, sweeping it around and around, scratching the tender area outside with his stubble, stretching inside to reach high up to my g-spot.  I bent my knees and brought my feet up onto the edge of the desk, pushing my thighs still further apart as my hips reared upwards.

At the same time Jack’s hands were working magic on the tender buds of my breasts, pinching and squeezing my nipples till they burned.  I writhed beneath his touch, groaning and gasping, as he pushed me closer and closer to the brink of orgasm.

‘Please…’ I moaned and he knew immediately what I wanted.


Buy links:

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Tamsin FlowersTamsin Flowers

Tamsin Flowers loves to write light-hearted erotica, often with a twist in the tail/tale and a sense of fun.  In the words of one reviewer, ‘Ms Flowers has a way of describing sexual tension that forces itself upon your own body.’ Her stories have appeared in a wide variety of anthologies and she is now graduating to novellas, for publishers including Cleis Press, Xcite Books, Secret Cravings and Totally Bound. This year, she entered NaNoWriMo, with the intention of penning her magnum opus in the very near future.  In the meantime, like most erotica writers, she finds herself working on at least ten stories at once: while she figures out whose leg belongs in which story, you can find out more about her at Tamsin’s Superotica or Tamsin Flowers.


I am so delighted we lucked out and had Tamsin over today! I hope you enjoyed hearing about her book, too. Make sure to check it out!

In the meantime, I’m off to go drink more coffee. Er, mimosas…



Picture of panties around red shoes

Oleander Plume Shares “Scent of a Man”

It’s the third day of Triple the Smut!

As you may recall, Oleander Plume is my fellow contributor in Best Women’s Erotica 2014, and she issued me a challenge—I was to choose one sexy word from her list and use it as inspiration for a story. I did this on Monday over at her site, and today, she’s here to share her response to my list. So without further ado, here’s the lovely Oleander! Take it away, darling!

Black and white pic of Oleander Plume

“How did I come up with the idea for this story? Well, my sweet friend Jade gave me a list of seven words, and the first one that caught my eye was “scent”. Immediately, I pictured a man in a well tailored business suit. Underneath, he’s finely muscled, maybe a tattoo somewhere. He smells delicious, like expensive cologne and masculine goodness. Really, it just wrote itself 😉 Enjoy, my lovelies!”

Scent of a Man

by Oleander Plume

I buried my face in his neck and inhaled. Burberry Touch, his signature scent, my senses were alive with the fragrance. I could feel his pulse beneath my lips as I kissed.


I pushed his groping hands away. “No, you promised. Just relax and let me do this.”

A small growl from him, a stern look from me. He dutifully stretched his arms over his head and crossed his wrists.

“Good boy. Now, no more shenanigans.”

“Yes ma’am.” His blue eyes narrowed slightly, but he smiled at me.

I straddled his hips, and resumed kissing, letting my mouth travel from his neck to his collar bone. I tasted the warm skin that covered his shoulder, slightly salty, but smooth against my tongue. Lower, to his armpit, he squirmed and laughed when I buried my nose inside.


“Shh. Let me.”

I inhaled, he smelled like citrus body wash and a soft musk, definitely male. The skin was like velvet, I petted the area with my fingertips, causing him to chuckle.

“Ticklish? Should I stop?”

“Please do.”

I moved to his strong pecs, the skin here smelled different, like fresh air. His nipple hardened under my tongue and I heard his breath catch in his throat. This was his secret erogenous zone, although it would have killed him to admit it. I nibbled on the firm nub, and he moaned softly, a sound that pleased me like no other. After paying some attention to the neglected nipple, I slid my lips down his stomach, using my tongue to trace all the ridges in his muscular abdomen. His impatience grew and he squirmed.

“Patience, lover.”

“Don’t you see how hard I am? You’re driving me crazy.” His drawl was raspy and thick with lust.

A puddle of saline had pooled under the tip of his cock, a heady testament to his arousal. The manly smell and taste of his fluid made my mouth water and my heart race. I moved lower yet, pushing his erect cock out of the way before rubbing my nose in his thatch of pubic hair. While I inhaled his delicious masculine essence, I traced the skin of his shaft with my fingers. So much hardness, wrapped in silk, I could feel the blood pulsating through each ropy vein.

“Darlin’.” More urgent now, his voice harsh with want.

“You have a lust ache, don’t you? Here, let me make it better.”

I gazed up at him while I tapped the head of his cock against my tongue. The sight of him lying there, vulnerable in his nakedness drove me wild. I knew at that moment, I owned him completely. A sharp knock at the door invaded our interlude.


A voice floated through the door. “Mr. Gentry, your 2 o’clock is here.”

“Darlin’?” he whimpered as he tried to sit up. I pushed him back against the desk.

“Your 2 o’clock can wait.”

About Oleander:

Oleander Plume writes erotica in several genres. Her work can be found in The Women Who Love to Love Gay Romance by Ryan Field, Best Women’s Erotica 2014 by Violet Blue, and Take This Man by Neil Plakcy (coming soon). Some of her flash fiction has been featured on and Please visit her on the web –


Oleander and I are both participating in Alison Tyler’s Smut Marathon, so if you haven’t already—please don’t forget to vote! Poll closes Thursday at midnight. 🙂


Sweaty male torso held from behind

“Heat” Over at Oleander Plume’s!

Today is the second part of the triple smut fest!

Which means…I am actually over at Oleander Plume’s site today. She is a fellow contributor in Best Women’s Erotica 2014, and today she’s asked me to come on over and write a flash story. In fact, she offered me a challenge—dun dun DUN!—which I gladly accepted. Her response to the challenge is coming on Wednesday, but in the meantime, please hop on over to her site to read “Heat”!

More on what inspired the story and the challenge is posted there too, but to give you a little preview, I’ll leave you with this:

Picture of woman's hands wrapped around a sweaty man's stomach.

Now, please go read “Heat” at Oleander Plume’s. Hope you enjoy it!