Thursday, April 25, 2013
The Greek gods of desire are skilled at satisfying the erotic needs of mortals who cross their path. But where do the gorgeous erotes turn for sexual healing when loneliness strikes at each eternal yet world-weary heart?
Together for the first time in one anthology collection, these three critically acclaimed novellas show that even the gods themselves are not immune from the influence of love.
A night of ménage a trois passion will change three lives forever. Jeannie and Jake's platinum anniversary becomes an unforgettable experience when Pothos, god of sexual yearning, steps in to save their twenty-year marriage.
A god of sexual desire on the edge of burnout meets a woman with a unique and secret past…In the arms of transsexual woman Gina, has Himeros finally discovered the one with whom even a god of love could find fulfillment?
Sex Club Secrets
Sometimes love can flourish in the most unexpected places. Ella and her bisexual best friend Kade meet the erotic god Anteros in a celebrated sex club—but the challenges facing these potential friends-to-lovers could prove too much for the god of requited and unrequited love.
Content suitable for adult readers only.
She wondered if there was anyone watching them right now, perhaps with a pair of binoculars. The thought of being watched ramped up the situation ten-fold. Maybe those at the reunion downstairs would hear her screams of release after all.
Maybe some of them were even now watching from one of those rooms across the street…
She tightened her butt, pushing her pelvis more firmly against him, rubbing on his hardness and using it to increase the pressure on her mound. Gina hoped they were watching, those bastards from her past. Watching, and wanting what she had between her legs right now. Not her own cock, anymore, but someone else's. Himeros, cocked, loaded, and ready to fuck.
And he's going to fuck me.
"We do have a couple of onlookers."
His soft words, murmured into her hair, had her thighs tightening involuntarily around him as the burning excitement grew. Who was watching? And what show did they want to see? Straight sex between a man and a woman, or sex between two people who both had a penis?
Are you wondering if I really had the op? If there aren't actually two hard dicks here right now, hidden by my skirt, sliding up and down against each other and dampening my panties with all that leaking pre-cum?
A sudden flare of anger ignited inside of her toward the peeping Toms, whoever they were, and she dug one of her heels into the crease of his ass, rubbing it up and down with just enough pressure to elicit a moan of protest from Himeros.
She stopped. "Sorry."
"Ah, but I enjoy the lick of pain, Gina."
"Oh." She liked how her voice got all husky when she was aroused. When she was home alone with her vibrator there was no call to speak. She hadn't realized it would sound like this, all deep and throaty. "Really?"
She reached up and caressed his face, following that angled cheekbone with one finger. "Then it's a pity you're still wearing trousers, Him."
Jennifer Lynne is multi-published in sensual and erotic romance and writes from her home in Melbourne, Australia. She has a degree in literature and media studies and has worked as a business writer and journalist for companies both large and small. She has even worked in an optical store! She lives in hope that readers will continue to enjoy her novella-length tales of love and lust.
Find Jennifer on the web at
Friday, April 12, 2013
25 New Yorker Insights Learned in Undressed by Avery Aster
• Your vagina can take a guy’s shaft and nuts…at the same time.
• Always name your butt plug after Anderson Cooper.
• Pre-ejaculation while jetting a plane over Italy causes turbulence.
• Never let a dog sleep in your bed, especially three dogs. It’ll ruin your sex life.
• If he’s as hung as an Evian bottle, it’s best to look away.
• Always retain the legal services of female lawyers, particularly ones named; Sarah Goldbaum and Hannah Goldstein.
• Never allow your mother to spend your line of credit on a psychic from the Caribbean.
• Sexual frustration leads to good business practices, enough to earn three hundred million dollars.
• If Bergdorf’s, Barney’s and Saks Fifth Avenue reject your upcoming fashion collections try selling it to JCPenny’s.
• Use your American Express reward points wisely.
• Bellini cocktail consumption will induce foot fetishes.
• Swedish Fish, Now & Later, and Gummy Bears from Dylan’s Candy Bar are perfect for your fuck-it bucket.
• Everyone should be so lucky to have a best friend like Taddy Brill.
• Never drive a Ford Thunderbird off a cliff thinking you’re Thelma & Louise.
• Stay away from any woman named Scilla or Ottavia.
• Wearing Tory Burch ballet flats while racing a sports car may cause ones clitoris to hum.
• Think twice before sitting Lady Gaga and Madonna next to one another at your fashion show.
• Prada and a condom, when worn together, are known to make bisexual men go bonkbuster cra-cra.
• Altering a vintage Valentino dress, formerly worn by socialite Nati Abascal, may land you on the red carpet.
• We should all get fucked in Fendi.
• When in love, you can have as many orgasms as you like…in one day!
• Slow dancing to Giuseppe Verdi enhances one’s emotional state.
• Never argue with your lover in public, above all—never in front of Anna Wintour, Marc Jacobs, or Karl Lagerfeld.
• Playing Simon Says, in bed, may lead one to reveal their true feelings. So will strip dancing in front of him to the song Girls, Girls, Girls by Mötley Crüe.
• And finally, he must always say, “I love you,” first.
Avery will be awarding a 6-month membership to Dylan's Candy Bar Candy of the month Club to one randomly drawn commenter from the tour. In the novel, the heroine makes herself Fuck-it Buckets which are candy filled buckets from Dylan’s Candy bar (or any candy store) when she's stressed out.
Book 1 in The Manhattanites series. (78,000 words, M/F, HEA, Erotic Romance, Contemporary)
Milan’s notorious playboy, Prince Tittoni, seems to have everything—Lamborghinis, exotic women, palaces throughout Europe and business success. Ramping up his fabric company to go global with a new apparel brand, he ruthlessly stops supplying fabrics to the American client who inspired the collection. But once they meet, what’s he willing to give to get her in his bed?
Upper East Side designer Lex Easton has already endured her fair share of hard knocks. She’ll be damned if she’ll let an Italian stud muffin knock her down. So what if she named her favorite vibrator after him? With Fashion Week approaching, she’ll do whatever it takes to secure the fabrics she needs to make her clothing line an international success—even sleep with her rival.
Lex’s Louboutins are dug in deep to win this war. All’s fair in love and fashion!
Inside Scoop: Though the hero and heroine remain monogamous, their Prada-wearing friends indulge in a ménage a trois and other fashionable sexual fun and games.
She gasped. He’d lost his mind. Lunacy swirled rampant around them today. “No way! I don’t need to ration a sellout to your subdivision for more than a second. I can tell you right now, the answer is no.” Hell to the no.
“Your quick ‘no’ is because I refused to say ‘yes’ to sex. They say men think with their dicks. I hope you do not run Easton with your—”
“Shut it!” I’m gonna punch you. Lex inhaled and fisted her hands. She reflected on what Taddy or Vive might say right now. She’d give him an earful sampled by second bestie “Viveca Farnworth” sarcasm style. Massimo deserved it. “You could have fucked me ’til your uncut, overexposed on the blogs, ‘too ginormous for my snatch’ pecker fell off. And I’d still no way never ever in a thousand years sell, loan, sample you my Easton. And to answer your question, I run my company with my pussy, and twenty-four other pussy-sporting employees. Easton girls do not allow dickheads or cocks in our fashion world. Period.” She recrossed her arms and quirked her jaw up to illustrate physical defiance coordinating with her ruthless words.
Massimo’s face remained impervious. She heard him jingle loose change in his pocket. He coughed, cleared his throat and said, “An acquisition is the solution viable for us both. Girasoli will acquire Easton. You will work for Girasoli and receive full benefits, health care, retirement, an expense account, you name it. Girasoli will give your entire team plenty of vacation time—whatever you want.”
“Come again?” Hell to the maaaybe.
“Today, watching what you did with the designs confermato my interest. Girasoli needs you. And Easton needs Girasoli. It is best for everyone. Think it over.”
“There is nothing to think over.” She bluffed. A regular paycheck with benefits versus her unstable startup and lack of cash, which flowed out, never in, made her pussy cream more than thinking about Massimo’s fat dick.
“When you are ready, I will have my attorneys draw up the paperwork, assuming you agree on the price. Would you care to know the prezzo I’m offering for Easton?”
“No, I would not. Easton is priceless. There isn’t enough money in the world for my baby.” Easton was her child. An all consuming, demanding, fulltime, pain in her ass child, but she loved her two-year-old Easton regardless.
“Girasoli will wage five times Easton’s annual gross,” Massimo enticed without hesitation.
“Last year’s gross? Or this year’s projected revenue?”
“This year,” he affirmed.
She did the calculations in her head and rounded up to the nearest million. “Three hundred flippin’ mil.” Hell to the Yaaah.
Avery Aster is an American novelist who pens erotic romance for Ellora’s Cave. As an Upper East Side resident and a graduate from New York University Avery is celebrated for giving readers an inside look at the city’s glitzy nightlife, socialite sexcapades, and tall tales of the über-rich and ultra-famous. “I write about what I see in my metropolis which never sleeps—Manhattanites on the quest for a passionate thrill,” Avery says. “By and large, my characters are drop-dead gorgeous, ripped straight from the headlines and on the hunt for their next conquest.”
Undressed, book one, launched The Manhattanites series exploring people’s forbidden desires of lust and longing. When Avery’s star-studded cast unites it always feels like forever and everyone has a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Log on to AveryAster.com for upcoming book releases or email Avery@AveryAster.com to join The Manhattanites fan club.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Mutual Release by Liz Crowe
Disclaimer: This is an 18+ book with erotic BDSM scenes and explicit language.
Can two dark souls ever make a light?
As president of her own distribution company, Julie Dawson has all she ever wanted -- money, power, and respect. But her carefully crafted façade conceals a torment of abuse and helplessness. After years remaining emotionally aloof, she is finally independent, but alone. Because she refuses to rely on anyone but herself ever again.
Evan Adams is no stranger to success, or personal demons. The horrific trauma that destroyed his twin sister, and tore his family apart, forced him to craft a new life from the ashes of the old. He's content enough, focusing ahead and not dwelling on his murky past. But something important is missing. He knows what that thing is but refuses to acknowledge it.
When a chance encounter brings these two strong-willed but damaged people together , what seems like a long, erotic journey through hell could lead them to a match made in heaven.
A leather chair appeared from the gloom. Evan looked around, then took the seat, disappointed but intrigued. He could hear Jack’s voice, his laughter low and inviting. What the fuck? Was Gordon getting in on action while he had to watch? Then he heard Jenna’s annoying giggle and realized the club must be making her watch too, only she got to do it with her date. He sighed, leaned back, and prepared himself to be underwhelmed.
“No,” a sexy, rough female voice broke through the clamor in his head. It must have surprised everyone because all the people on the couches glanced up. “I want him. Out here.” Evan looked straight at her and saw the hot-as-shit Domme point her bullwhip right at him. He gulped, actually looked around like a dork, thinking there must be someone behind him. He was no sub.
She crooked her finger, her ruby-red moist lips drawing his gaze and making him feel positively hypnotized. His cock kept up its painful pressure along the inside of his zipper. A drop of sweat formed on his temple but he couldn’t move his arms to brush it away. All he knew… was her.
“Mr. Adams,” the disembodied voice said. “Your presence has been requested by our Mistress. Please. Do not make her wait.” The sheer curtain separating him from the crowd parted as he stood. Shoving his hands in his pockets and no longer aware of anything at all but what he wanted right now, he took the few steps down to the main floor.
“Stop!” She held up a hand. “Do not come any closer until I tell you.” She snapped her fingers. A tall man dressed only in leather pants emerged from somewhere to her left. A woman approached him, smiling and holding out a tray filled with… He stared, then shook his head, backing away, his brain on fire and his body in flight mode. “Where are you going, slave?” The woman cracked her whip. Evan sensed its bite near his cheek.
“I am no one’s slave,” he croaked out, sounding like a whiney kid.
“Perhaps. But I am not just anyone.” Before he could catch a breath, the woman was in his space. He kept his hands at his sides, knowing if he touched her he would be punished. Her full lips were inches from his. She leaned in, placed a tender kiss on his cheek, then stepped back.
“The Mistress has chosen!” the voice boomed and the room heaved a collective sigh. Evan whipped his head around, suddenly terrified and hornier than he had been in his entire existence. He closed his eyes as a loud whooshing sound started echoing around in his head in perfect time with his heartbeat. He held his ground, biting the inside of his cheek raw to keep from falling to his knees and kissing his way up her shiny patent leather shoe. The woman stood, the cape-like cloak draped around her tall, perfect body. He couldn’t move and had no idea what to do now anyway.
She took two long steps and was back in his space, tugging his tie, lifting it free of his collar and letting her lips linger over his, tempting, teasing, and bringing his body to full attention from his scalp to his toes. What in the hell was going on here? He was a sub? But the whooshing sound would not stop; it deafened him and he started to shake. The woman put her hands on his shoulders and kept kissing him just enough to make him insane. Disembodied hands removed his suit coat. Then, with a powerful jerk, She ripped his dress shirt into two scraps of expensive cotton that hung from his wrists.
His nipples hardened, his skin broke out in goose bumps. More bodiless hands unfastened his cuffs and took what remained of his shirt away. The woman kept smiling, trailing her fingertip down his chest. Evan’s lungs hurt he was breathing so hard.
“You are very…” She leaned in and touched her tongue to a nipple, making him gasp. “In need of…” She licked her way across his chest to the other hardened nub of flesh and bit, hard, making him yelp and grunt to distract himself from coming in his trousers. “A lesson in what it means to wield control.”
She unfurled the whip, keeping her lips on his skin, licking and nibbling her way up his neck as he stood, fists clenched and teeth grinding. Then she bit down on his lower lip, bringing tears to his eyes and yet more urgency to fuck. What was happening to him?
“Sit.” She shoved him down. Evan dropped, hoping someone had put a chair there. His ass hit leather and wood. Watching mesmerized as she dug a sharp heel into his still-covered thigh. The pulsing behind his zipper had reached a level he’d never experienced. It was as if he were already coming, in his head, trying to relieve the pressure without actually ejaculating. This was a total goddamn trip. He sighed, looked up at the ceiling.
“Don’t look away from me, slave.” Her rough voice made the whooshing sound return between his ears. She snapped her fingers. Two nearly naked women scuttled to his side, undid his belt, unzipped his pants, and pulled off his shoes while removing his trousers, leaving only his tie and boxers.
“Holy fucking mother of… ah!” he cried out, unable to stop when the woman stood over him, her warm, inviting sex right at his eye level. Other hands rubbed, teased him through his underwear. But he kept his eyes trained up as he sucked in a lungful of her heady scent.
“You think this is all there is, don’t you, boy?” The woman’s voice filled his head. “Your giant cock and what you can do with it.” She stepped away from him, flicking her whip at his inner thighs, breaking up the pleasure with a bite of pain that made him curse and lean forward. The lovely, soft hands that had been on his aching shaft disappeared. “Oh no you don’t. You sit; you take, and you do not come. For any reason. If you do, I will make you very,” she slid the handle of the whip along his reddened inner leg, “very sorry. Are we clear? Dear?”
Microbrewery owner, best-selling author, beer blogger and journalist, mom of three teenagers, and soccer fan, Liz lives in the great Midwest, in a major college town. Years of experience in sales and fund raising, plus an eight-year stint as an ex-pat trailing spouse, plus making her way in a world of men (i.e. the beer industry), has prepped her for life as erotic romance author.
When she isn't sweating inventory and sales figures for the brewery, she can be found writing, editing or sweating promotional efforts for her latest publications.
Her groundbreaking romance subgenre, “Romance for Real Life,” has gained thousands of fans and followers who are interested less in the “HEA” and more in the “WHA” (“What Happens After?”)
Her beer blog a2beerwench.com is nationally recognized for its insider yet outsider views on the craft beer industry. Her books are set in the not-so-common worlds of breweries, on the soccer pitch and in high-powered real estate offices. Don’t ask her for anything “like” a Budweiser or risk painful injury.