Monday, June 30, 2014

Book Spotlight ~ Tattered Hearts Collection Cole & Abi’s Story


Tattered Hearts Collection Cole & Abi’s Story 
     by Quira Quin
Abigale Martin, Abi, has grown up in an abusive household. When Lucas saved her from her brothers abuse at school when they were both younger, then for years ignored her, she never thought anyone would try to save the stuttering geek from her own living nightmare. When Lucas pops up at a church picnic, she realizes he just might be her saving grace. 

Six years later, Abi finds herself right back where she was as a child, she has turned into her mother. But when Abi realizes she has something worth fighting for, will that be enough to end her nightmare, or will she be forced to do something she will never recover from? 
Colter Hudson, Cole, had it all, a fighting career that was taking him to the title fight, a beautiful woman by his side, family money, and a future of taking over the family business. Due to go live the life he always imagined when he turns twenty-five, his life is forever changed on one fateful night. 
Cole's life has spiraled downward, and he is trying to become the man he once was. He has a strict set of rules he is following, and it seems to be working. He is not interested in anyone or anything that may disrupt his plan. What happens when everything he wanted is standing right in front of him, will he be able to be the man he was before his nightmare of a life changed him into a monster? 
Cole can't stop the feelings he has, but his fear is keeping him away. Abi has to learn she is stronger than she thinks, and she has to fight for herself and her future. Will the past constantly haunt the present, or will the future not be able to be the dream both are looking for? 
Pasts have to be overcome, before the future even stands a chance


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Excerpt (3 heat rating)

Maybe Lucas is right, and you just need a week off to get your head straight, I dont need none of that drama around here. Blink, blink, something down the hall catches his attention, as he looks over my head. Not hard to do, most of the men around here are really tall. He snaps twice in the air and motions for someone to come this way. He makes eye contact with me.

I dont know what got into you, get it fixed. You look like shit. I dont want to have to fire ya. He practically shoves me into the wall with his shoulder as he steps by me. Guess that was my cue, that I should have stepped out of his way, the firing part had nothing to do with my shocked state. At least twice a week he did that. I finally get my mouth closed. My eyes go from that dumb blinking to narrowed slits as I glare at him. He stands proud, his back to me. Arms crossed over his chest as he talks to someone I cant see.

As my thoughts start slowing down enough to understand them, he turns, an evil grin mares his face, he leans my way just a bit. His sleazy arrogance is irritating. He thinks he's all that and a bag of chips. Not the washed up wannabe mobster he actually looks like. Early forties, bald on top, trimming his beard into those sharp thin lines, that I think is sexy on some men. On him, it makes him look long in the face and creepy.

Abi, and now that youre single, consider it open season with you and the customers. He winks. My jaw drops to the floor along with my stomach. Splat. Single. What? Blink blink no, come on he did not say what I think he said. Six years, six years of devotion, of putting him first, he didnt even respect me enough or have the decency to break up with me in person. To be an adult about all this and talk in person, in private. No, he did do this, spread the rumor so he wouldnt have to face me.

A note, a text, a freaking voicemail. Anything, other than second hand, from a slime ball, at work. Did everyone know? I know I should have known he would do something like this after six years of knowing him. But what was Lucas playing at here? I deepen breaths as flashes of memories flood in. Something inside breaks loose. Everything I have blocked, stuffed, and repressed clashing, throbbing. I was being ripped and turned inside out in a matter of seconds that felt like hours. I feel like I have been flattened.

When I start to calm from my panic, my eyes are wide open. My racing heart falls into a steady rhythm, my head clears, I straighten, standing taller. Oh hell no. He was here somewhere. He had a fight tonight. He wouldnt be drinking yet. I was shattering to pieces, trembling from head to toe, but there was something else mixed in with it.


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Thursday, June 26, 2014

Book Spotlight ~ Chiaroscuro by Rebecca dubois-Guilbert







 
In 1955 love between a white woman and a black man was forbidden. Having just divorced her cheating husband, Summer has returned home to the smalltown of Tarnton to decide what to do with the rest of her life. There she meets Griff Woods, son of her family’s maid, who has come home from Europe for his mother’s death. The attraction is instant, resulting in a passionate affair carried on in the moonlight at the old quarry pool, an affair that Summer wants to keep quiet at all costs. Griff wants commitment. Racists are perverting the law to further their own ends and think nothing of burning and harassment. When one of the racists who wanted Summer for himself finds her with Griff, Summer must fight for her life as well as her love. 


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Excerpt (Adult)
 
Summer’s normally pale skin glowed with a pure pearlescence under the silver moon, as if she had been newly
carved from the purest alabaster. Raging with a fresh greed for attention, the strawberry tips of her quivering breasts were drawn into tight, pouting rosebuds that strained upward.
It was a temptation that Griff could not resist. Reluctantly leaving the sweet seduction of Summer’s mouth, his lips nibbled their way down her satin skin, blazing a trail of lingering, licking kisses.
At last, when Summer thought she could stand the painful anticipation no longer, his kisses centered on those sensitive points of desire. He placed a circle of kisses around the edge of the puffy aureole before pulling the hard knob of nipple deep in his mouth. His tongue pressed it against the roof of his mouth, softly at first, then demanding more, sucking on it with a passionate intensity.
Summer writhed in the agony of pleasure as his teeth and tongue did marvelous, hitherto inexperienced things to her hungry flesh, licking, nipping, tickling. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him even closer to her as if afraid he would leave and abandon her in this state of unfulfilled ecstasy.
His hands were busy with the strings at each side of her bathing suit bottom and this time they had learned their lesson well. The knots parted and the fabric fell away, discarded and quickly forgotten.
Griff cupped the rounded globes of her hips in the palms of his hands and slithered down the length of her body, scattering quick, hungry kisses over the slight, womanly roundness of her tummy. Effortlessly lifting Summer’s hips above the thin sheet of water, Griff gave a growl of unrestrained passion and dived forward, burying his hungry mouth in the soft, moist center of Summer’s very femininity.
His tongue parted the soft, hairy lips, searching for the sensitive seat of her pleasure and teasing it. His lips closed gently around the tiny stem and tugged gently before sucking on it. Summer’s back arched at the pleasure and she had to fight to keep from crying out in pure joy.
Summer had never been loved like that. When they had lived in Europe some of her friends had talked about being loved that way, but when Summer had tentatively mentioned it to Sonny he had reacted with such disgust she never mentioned it again. She felt a sense of shock, having imagined it for years with no real knowledge of how wonderful it could be.
In the burning white moonlight nothing was hidden; Summer looked down the length of her body – so like an alabaster altar – and saw Griff’s dark head framed by the milky vee of her parted legs. It was as if she were being worshipped by some mysterious water god risen from the depths for the sole purpose of awakening her to a new awareness…. The moment and the idea merged, creating an iridescent erotic apex in Summer’s life, loosening in her a vast, uncontrollable flood of feelings that swirled and churned and redefined her world.
Sensing the coming storm, Griff redoubled his efforts, lashing her clitoris with a heavy tongue, then sucking, finally nibbling with careful teeth. His tongue sank lower, lapping at her vaginal lips and slurping down the thick, sweet juices of her passion. His tensing fingers dug into the creamy globes of Summer’s hips as his lips and tongue combined to drive her the last small way into ecstasy. With an effort Summer stifled a cry and shook in the throes of explosive release, her body arching tightly as if she could neither control nor contain the pleasure that coursed through her.
Gently, Griff released his possessive grip and, hurrying now with his own need, stripped away his inadequate, straining bathing suit. In the instant he raised upright over her, proudly naked, his kingly penis aroused and impatient, Summer again had the feeling that this was a place out of time, a place of magic, and the dark god of the water had risen to claim her. Gladly, she raised her arms in demanding invitation and gladly he came down to fill them.
Wrapping her tightly in his arms to protect her back from the abrasive concrete, Griff made himself go slowly, very slowly, prolonging the moment until he could wait no longer. Gently, slowly, as if she were a virgin, he eased forward into her, the great hard knob of his erection spreading and stretching and filling her warm softness with his desire until at last they were one. Black and white, male and female, positive and negative, opposites in every way, they joyously entwined and combined beneath the cruel moon.
Then he could hold back no more. With her wrapped tightly around him as if to draw him deeper, tighter, closer, he at last began to move in a driven and intense rhythm, each convulsive shared thrust carrying them to the final, explosive ecstasy. They collapsed into a boneless embrace.
A soft breeze stirred, making the brushy pines whisper gently among themselves. The dry scent of a hot summer drought moved gently over the quietening water, but hidden in its dusty depths was the poignant sweetness of somewhere a rose gone wild.
“Damn,” Griff swore quietly.


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Additional information regarding this book

Race relations were strained and violent during this time, especially in the deep South. Actual historical figure Emmitt Till was lynched for whistling at a white woman. White men regularly patronized black women of a certain class with no repercussions, but white women were held to a totally different standard. Even smiling at a black man – let alone touching or having sex with one – could be disastrous to her reputation and on occasion her health and life.  While this is a complete work of fiction, the thoughts and actions of most of the characters – especially the townspeople – are accurate to the time period.





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Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Book Spotlight ~ Black Master, White Slave by Rebecca duBois-Guilbert







In the South of the 1820s it was unusual for a free black man to be a slaveholder. It was scandalous for a black man to buy a white slave, especially one that was a woman. Josiah Cavanaugh didn’t care. Once he saw the red-haired Irish girl on the slave block – the girl who so resembled the woman who had seduced and humiliated him – he had to own her. Then perhaps he could exorcize his demons and get the sexual revenge he had longed for. 


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Excerpt (Adult)

“Sounds like your Master Higgins thought a lot of you.”
“Yes, sir, he did.”
“So why did he sell you?” Idly, Josiah drew a fingertip from the valley between her full, proud breasts down to the small dimple that was her navel.
“He got married. A rich man’s daughter. He had to get me off the place before she came.”
“So you ended up on the slave ship.” The finger descended over the slight swell of her belly and gently drew a triangle around the coppery curls of her sex.
“Yes.”
His fingertip spread into his whole hand as he slid back up her stomach and then around to cup the globes of her behind. Abruptly he pushed her back and stood; a scant number of inches separated them.
“Undress me.”
Obediently, Pegeen tugged his shirt from his trousers and lifted it off over his head. He raised his arms without prompting, but did not help her in any other way. He towered over her; she couldn’t help brushing against his skin and surprised it felt so satiny. She hadn’t had call to touch many of the bucks in the islands, but when she had their skin was dried and leathery from the sun.
Her new master was very solid, muscular and almost totally hairless, something she wasn’t used to. Only a few kinky curls of hair sprouted around his nipples. The skin on his chest was as dark as the skin on his face, and so black it seemed to absorb the light.
One thing made her gasp, one thing about him similar to the black slaves she had known in the islands; a silvery gray webwork of scars covered Josiah Cavanaugh’s shoulders like a lacy shawl. Pegeen could not stifle a gasp.
Josiah Cavanaugh was silent, his eyes cold.
Her stomach tightened, and Pegeen dropped her eyes to the distended front of his trousers. The fabric was stretched so that she fumbled with the buttons, at last opening the flap to reveal an engorged organ of remarkable size. In spite of herself she felt a flutter of… what? Fear? Anticipation? She didn’t know; though she had been bedded by a fair number of white men – her three former owners, and their friends to whom she had been lent – the coupling of a male and a female had never brought her the pleasure it did to the men. White ladies weren’t supposed to enjoy being bedded, but Pegeen thought some of them really did. They talked about it enough between themselves.
Reaching around him she eased his trousers down and his erection jabbed her in the breasts, making her nipples tighten and tingle in response.
“I need to take your shoes off,” she said huskily, kneeling in front of him.
Silently Josiah sat, allowing her to lift one leg and then the other as she eased off his shoes with their ornate pewter buckles, his thin cotton stockings and finally his trousers, dropping them all to the side. Then he reached out and snarled his hands in her fiery mane, bringing her face toward him. It was not a rough act, nor a painful one, but unmistakable in its meaning.
Obediently Pegeen opened her mouth and took his massive shaft between her lips. Her second master, old Mr. Winterborough, had liked this form of pleasuring more than the way Nature had intended, but old Mr. Winterborough had not been anywhere as large as this man. This man filled her mouth and stretched her lips until she was afraid they might split; still, she knew what was expected of her and began to move her head up and down rapidly in the way that had given old Mr. Winterborough such pleasure.
The pressure on her head increased, holding her to a leisurely stroke. Now she could feel each throb and curve of him, feel him quiver and strain as she slid slowly up and down his shaft.
It didn’t last long; Josiah Cavanaugh gave a convulsive shudder, cried out and exploded into Pegeen’s mouth, flooding it so much that small streams of thick translucent liquid ran from the corners. Immediately he released her, and Pegeen, half-way choking, swiped quickly at her dripping chin.
His breath was rough and ragged, but when he looked down his eyes had lost their hard glitter. “Do you not like that?”
Pegeen choked down the last of the salty liquid and tried not to throw up. Old Mr. Winterborough had always pulled out at the last moment, wanting to see how far he could spew his seed. The carpet in his bedroom had been a disgrace, but he wouldn’t let anyone touch it.
This was twice her new master had asked her what she liked! What kind of a man was he who cared what a slave thought?
She shook her head. “Not much. Not the… liquid.”
“Take your clothes and go,” Josiah said in a flat voice.



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Additional information regarding this book

While a work of fiction, this book is historically accurate. Modern history has chosen to forget that during the Poverty Clearances of the early 1800s many Irish were swept up and taken to the American South and the Caribbean, where they were sold as slaves just like the African blacks. For reasons unknown, black slaves were more highly prized; they brought better prices and were better treated. The Irish were simply worked to death and then replaced.  Also, in 1822 in South Carolina there was a slave rebellion led by a slave named Denmark Vesey. He was betrayed and the revolt failed before it could get really underway. He was executed, and his name used as a rallying cry among black regiments during the War Between the States.







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Tuesday, June 24, 2014

Book Spotlight ~ TAKEN BY THE DARK MAN – An Erotic Tale from the Captured! Chronicles by Graciela Hopper




 The two moons of Metazore have crossed, meaning it is the Great Festival of Joining. Princess Karina of The Nahan is prepared to do her duty of sexual service in the temple, but finds the sex act boring and messy. Most of the men with whom she joins she knows, but as an embodiment of the Goddess of the Two Moons cannot speak with them. Only the blunt and power-hungry general Sidonous ignores the rules. He wants both her body and the power her bloodline brings.

Then the dark man comes to worship with Karina and opens her eyes to a world of sexual fulfillment she has never imagined, just before he and his soldiers overtake and destroy not only the city, but everything Karina has been taught to believe. Carrying her off as a piece of war booty, the dark man uses Karina as a pleasure slave, creating in her a storm of lust and hatred.



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Excerpt (Adult) 

The dark man looked her over from head to toe, his eyes never losing that subtle glint of humor. There was intelligence there, too, and something else, but his face remained bland. Slowly he extended a hand and stroked her stomach in a gentle caress. Karina could not help notice that his hands were hard, the hands of a working man, or that he looked like a spill of ink against her white skin.
“And you are prepared to mate with me?”
“This is the Grand Festival of Joining,” Karina replied. Where his flesh had touched hers tingled.
His hand slipped down to the wiry golden hair of her mound, playing with it, combing his fingers through it. “Even though we have never met before?”
“It is the way of the Festival.” What was this? No one had ever questioned the rites of the Festival before. Where did this man come from?
“And you are willing to let me enter you now, take possession of you, without knowing anything about me?”
His hand slipped past the golden mound, his fingers seeking the soft inner tissues of her sex. One rubbed slowly against the pleasure nubbin her own fingers knew so well, then with its fellows dropped lower, playing with the entrance of her.
“I know you are an embodiment of Harhebt, and I am the goddess Shemat,” Karina said. It was an effort to keep her body still and her voice from shaking breathlessly. “Joining is an act of worship. And there is to be no personal talking, for we are the god and goddess.”
A ghost of a smile twitched in the corners of his mouth. “Very well, then, let us worship.”
Without stopping the slow explorations of his fingers, he bent to nuzzle her nipple with his lips. Already distended from unaccustomed usage this day, they were swollen and a little tender. As if he knew this the dark man was gentle, licking and then sucking first one and then the other with steadily growing intensity until they tingled with pleasure.
His fingers were not idle, either. First one finger and then two slipped inside her, then, as Karina opened her legs wider in automatic surrender, three fingers stretched her. Moving them in and out in a motion like lovemaking, he let her juices moisten the two of them, then carefully slid a fourth finger almost all the way in.
Karina gasped at being opened so far. It took all her will not to writhe in a strange combination of pleasure and pain such as she had not experienced before, not to grab him and pull him close to her. To show pleasure or passion was to soil the ritual.
The dark man smiled and withdrew, leaving Karina feeling oddly empty. His hand glistening with her juices, he reached down to smear his organ with her moisture. Karina could not help but stare. He had grown, expanding to a terrifying size. Could a woman die from trying to take a scepter of Harhebt of such dimensions?
She was going to find out. He leapt easily to the top of the altar and knelt between her legs. Instead of ramming himself into her, as she had feared, he placed the mighty head just at her opening even as his finger strummed her pleasure nubbin. In spite of herself Karina could feel herself relaxing, opening, moistening. She could not restrain a small moan of all too human desire.
Now the dark man was smiling. Slowly, steadily, he pushed forward inside her, expanding the walls of her organ, stretching, going deeper than any man ever had. It did hurt to be stretched so much, but Karina was astonished that it was a good hurt, a hurt that was more arousing than painful.
Only when she sighed with pure pleasure did he begin to move, in and out, slowly at first and then with ever increasing speed. Karina could not help herself; her body began to move of its own accord, matching every thrust of his with a movement of her own.
He bent his head and sucked gently at one nipple and Karina thought she might explode.
Then she did, flying over a barrier she had never even known existed. Until that moment she had thought her private experiments had been the height of pleasure, but now she knew they had been only a prelude. She shuddered and jerked, trying to impale herself even further on this dark and magical scepter of Harhebt even as she bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself silent. A scream of passion, of satisfaction, was still a scream and it would bring the temple executioner to exact instant retribution. 
The dark man chuckled, then his face tensed as he pumped even harder, driving ever deeper into her. In spite of her incredible release and satisfaction Karina found herself matching his every move. Inside her his scepter swelled bigger and bigger until Karina began to wonder if he would split her asunder. Then suddenly he exploded, filling her with a rush of warm fluid. It was the first time she had actually felt a man’s effusion.
The dark man sagged, falling at full length across her. Karina could only gasp as her body throbbed with a pleasure she had never known. Three years in service at the Grand Festivals of Joining and for the very first time she could consider it so special that it was indeed an act of worship.


Additional information regarding this book:

While this is a fantasy set on an alien world, sexual worship in a temple – sacred prostitution – was long a reality in many religions in many parts of the ancient world. TAKEN BY THE DARK MAN is the first of a projected trilogy – PRISONER OF THE DARK MAN and an as-yet-unnamed final novella yet to come – which explores the complicated relationship between masters and slaves, different cultures  and the tempestuous relationship between Karina and the dark man.



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