Tuesday, October 10, 2017

New Gay Collection


Paranormal Gay Menage and Erotic Romance

Available in print and ebook October 13; pre-order now!

About This Book:

Myths, moons, and mayhem make the perfect threesome—and so do the men in this anthology. 

Enjoy nine erotic stories of paranormal ménages a trois fueled by lust and magic, where mystical forces collide with the everyday world and even monsters have their own demons to conquer. 

A werewolf gets a lust-fueled lesson on fitting in with the pack, a professor unlocks ancient secrets and two men’s hearts, and a pair of supernaturals find themselves at the erotic mercy of a remarkable human. Ghosts, fairies, aliens, and mere mortals test the boundaries of their desires, creating magic of their own.

Penned by favorite authors such as Rob Rosen and Clare London, as well as by newcomers to the genre, Myths, Moons & Mayhem is an eclectic mix of paranormal lust and polymythic beings that will spark your fantasies and fuel your bonfires.

Inside Man by Clare London—At a London pub, a tear in the veil between the dead and living opens up new possibilities for a ghost who could only ever watch the men he desired, but never touch.

The Secret of the Golden Cup by Rebecca Buchanan—A classics professor finds himself at the center of a magical war. With an unfairly attractive student and a campus janitor as his only allies, can he stave off the forces of evil?

When The Big Moon Shines by Carl Redlum—A college student is intent on hunting down the man who turned him into a werewolf. But his mouthwatering neighbors keep getting in the way.

Careful What You Wish For by Elizabeth Coldwell—Josh dreams of meeting Mr. Right, so his roommate offers help with a love spell. Neither man is prepared for what happens when the spell begins to work.

The Cave by Dale Cameron Lowry—Losing sleep to the sounds of his tent-neighbors’ nightly lovemaking has nature photographer Ethan at his wit’s end. What kind of magic can convince the two men he should join them?

The Endless Knot by Morgan Elektra—The fiery romance between a vampire and a werewolf threatens to burn itself to the ground until a human teaches them to temper the flame.

Squatchin’ by Greg Kosebjorn—Two Bigfoot hunters get more than they bargained for when they set out on an overnight camping trip to trail the legendary beast.

Celyn’s Tale by Rhidian Brenig Jones—A young Welsh farmer is haunted by visions of his future lover, only to discover that the lover is not one, but two—and not exactly human, either.

Close Encounter of the Three-way Kind by Rob Rosen—In this quirky comedy, aliens arrive from another galaxy, but they’re more interested in consensual exploration than invasion. Alien probing never felt so good!

Excerpt from "Inside Man" by Clare London:

I haven’t had the luxury of a cock in hand for a long, long time. 

Not my own, and not anyone else’s. Because that’s what happens when you snuff it. The loss of corporeal touch, that is. You get used to it over time, believe me—those early days of stepping through the back of a sofa, grabbing for a handhold when you fall and watching your arm just pass through a decoupaged coffee table; they’re thankfully in the past—but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss it. 

You know what I mean, right? There are times when sexual need is a pure, unadulterated agony, when the desire is as mentally strong as ever, but the limbs won’t respond. Times when I’d give up all the new benefits—you know, sharper hearing, no need to buy a train ticket, free front seats at the gig of my choice, and the chance to see what politicians are really doing behind closed doors with their expense accounts—just for the chance to feel my own junk again. To scratch my pubes. To fold my palm around my dick and feel the sheath crinkle and stretch. To reach a finger down to nudge my balls. To sigh with the cleanest, simplest pleasure of all, of satisfying myself. 

And one of those times is right fucking now, watching these two guys together. 

They’re a gorgeous couple: not model material, or that overgroomed, city trader look. They’re just young, living life, naturally good-looking, and… really fine. Just over an hour ago, they came into this bar on Blackfriars Bridge, at the end of a long, languidly hot London day. The place is packed with tourists eating overpriced snacks while fanning themselves frantically with their A–Z maps, kids whining because the signal for their phones is unreliable, and city workers who’ve discarded their jackets and ties, surrendering to the damp clamminess of their shirts, and are gulping sauvignon blanc like it’s water. It’s Friday, the end of the working week. 

This is one of my favourite places: you see a huge cross-section of humanity here, whatever time of day or night I visit. Which, let’s face it, is all much the same to me. 

These guys are now sitting at a corner table, sheltered from the crowds at the bar, their heads leaning toward each other, almost touching, but not quite. There’s a tangible spark between them. I see it in the way each one’s gaze is fixed on the other; the way their fingers brushed together when Guy #1 passed a pint over to Guy #2. Yet they’re discreet. No embraces, no caresses. Maybe they’re not out to their workmates. Maybe they’re just modest in public. But the familiarity I see between them implies they’ve been a couple for a while. 

Guy #1 is on the left, the taller of the two, even sitting down, with a shallow buzz cut of black hair, a neat beard, and bronzed forearms. He’s in a tailored suit, his shirtsleeves rolled up against the heat, the front of his crisp white shirt a little creased over a stocky torso. His shoes are pinching—I can tell by the way he’s stuck his feet out from under the table and is rubbing one against the other—and his shoulder muscles are tight with tension. 

If I still had my touch, I could massage it away. I used to be bloody good at that. 

Guy #2 is on the right. He’s younger, with plenty of upper body muscle but slimmer hips and legs, and shaggy hair half scooped up under his beanie. He’s dressed more casually in jeans and a polo shirt, his hands coarser, his boots dirty from brick dust and long-ingrained paint. He’s more relaxed than his partner, but bolder too. How can I know that? I can’t always explain how I do. For now, it’s something about the easy way he’s stretched out his legs under the table, the fact that he seems restless sitting down, and restricted by the limited space in the pub. His smile is quick to appear, though it’s quenched as swiftly. His hand darts across the table top, as if to grasp the other guy’s, but stalls somewhere behind the menu holder, cradling the salt cellar instead. 

Perhaps he knows the touch isn’t welcomed. His frown tells me he’s not pleased about it. 

What’s the problem between them? 

Has it just been a shitty day at work? Have they argued? I shift, as much as my postlife movement can be measured by human terms, and examine those expressions more closely. Guy #1 is angry; tense. But despite that, he adores Guy #2, he wants him like breath. That’s very clear to me—many times I can sense emotions as keenly as I used to savour the smoke from a particularly fine cigar—but there’s something holding him back. His most honest desire? It’s to drag Guy #2 into the gents, find a lockable cubicle, and drop to his knees in front of him. 

About the Editor:

Dale Cameron Lowry’s number one goal in life is getting the cat to stop eating dish towels; number two is to write things that bring people joy. Dale is the author of Falling Hard: Stories of Men in Love and a contributor to more than a dozen anthologies. Find out more at dalecameronlowry.com, or contact Dale at mmm@dalecameronlowry.com.

Links:


Authors: Rebecca Buchanan, Elizabeth Coldwell, Rhidian Brenig Jones, Morgan Elektra, Greg Kosebjorn, Clare London, Dale Cameron Lowry, Carl Redlum, Rob Rosen

Publisher: Sexy Little Pages

Universal Buy Link: https://books2read.com/mythsmoons



Friday, October 6, 2017

Choose Your Pleasure




Curl up this Fall and get your Halloween vibes going! "Choose Your Pleasure: The Dragon's Gift, A Lesbian Tale" is releasing October 11th, 2017!


In this unique title, you become the main character, the story design yours to create. In addition to the original story thread, there are multiple new pathways to choose from, five different love interests, and a dozen possible endings. Will you find a happily ever after, a content existence, or a situation that completely surprises you? The choice is yours.

"You," the college student, have been in love with Maxine as long as you can remember, but Maxine is straight, isn't she? Despite feeling you have little chance, you sit through Maxine’s latest theatre performance about a dragon to show your never ending support as her best friend. Besides, Maxine’s promise of a surprise for you following the show has piqued your interest. But what happens at the show? Do you bump into an old flame, meet a busty beauty, connect with a curly haired stranger, lose your sanity, or curl up next to the love of your life? In the dark, under the stage, inside a restroom or a bar, the allure and desire for a happy ending is within reach... Choose wisely.

This book contains graphic descriptions of intimacy and is intended for an adult audience. 

Find this book on Radish Fiction

You can read the FREE version of the original short story on Radish Fiction

Read about the writing process of this type of story here on the blog

Coming to Amazon November 30th, 2017

Wednesday, October 4, 2017

The Choose Your Pleasure Experience

There’s always that one story you wish had ended differently and an alternate decision or direction you think your favorite character could have taken. These are the stories that eat away at the mind, living on in the imagination, the possibilities begging to be explored. And they can be. 

While writing The Dragon’s Gift, I originally planned a very dark ending. In order to please my then-publisher, I curbed my ending to something entirely different from what I had in mind to fall within their guidelines. As I thought over this experience, I realized my story could have ended in any number of ways. Not only could they, but they should have. This was when I decided to expand upon my original plot, throwing myself full on into my first Choose Your Pleasure style book.

This was an experiment in where I learned many things.
1) Multiple plots means multiple stories
2) It would be more challenging than I anticipated
3) You can get sued for using trademarks like "Choose Your Own Adventure" and it's best to google/check online that your title/idea isn't the property of someone else.

While writing Choose Your Pleasure: The Dragon’s Gift, A Lesbian Tale, I ran into some challenges. 

The first thing I struggled with was maintaining a good balance of possibilities. Classic CYOA books have happily ever afters, happy for nows, death endings, unhappy endings, and runarounds where multiple plot lines converge. The story twists and turns in the second person point of view and literally sucks the reader in. The advantage to this is that the reader (to the extent of the author’s imagination) is responsible for their own destiny, and if unhappy with the outcome, can go back and explore a new pathway. There’s never a reason to put the book down or cast it aside because it’s disliked. After exploring the outcomes I originally wished to have happen for my story, I had to go back through and determine how I could also include the classic plotlines that were missing. This proved difficult for me as an author due to my complete lack of ability to outline. I’ve always struggled at planning ahead on paper or on the computer. My stories are usually organic, growing inside my head and transferring to the keyboard at the pace of thought. But my traditional writing ways weren’t good enough for this project. I had to plot ahead. A lot.

Another problem I ran into were plotlines that didn’t go anywhere or ran in circles. It’s true that traditional CYOA books allow for such things, but too much runaround irritates the reader. To avoid this, new plot lines have to be created, which produces additional story threads at an exponential rate. Too many directions become impossible to keep track of no matter what system you’re using. As a result, some endings are more abrupt than others. Still, this happened in the classic tales as well.

Although challenging and requiring significant time to create, I can honestly say that I’m satisfied with the outcome. The best part of this project was being able to delve into a story and explore all the possibilities that my creativity desired. I was even forced to create options I never foresaw in order to complete the book. I enjoyed the experience enough to desire writing another one. I always look forward to discovering new ways to write a story and improve upon my craft.

You can find my Choose Your Pleasure: The Dragon's Gift, A Lesbian Tale, on Radish Fiction as of October 11th 2017 (where many chapters are available for free, or on Amazon mid November 2017)

Saturday, September 30, 2017

Rules of Engagement by Nia Farrell

New release from Wicked Pen Writer Nia Farrell!



This novella is 19,000 words of Daddy Dom Age Play Erotic Romance! 
Find it on Amazon     Goodreads     Teasers and Excerpts


Corporate attorney Dylan Reynolds hopes to become a first time Daddy Dom with a twenty-two-year old genius whose lack of experience intrigues him. Holly Knox can’t deny her attraction to Dylan, but she’s never had a serious relationship, let alone been with a Dominant who’s into the BDSM lifestyle. He’s promised to show her a world of flavors beyond vanilla, but he wants to start with a spanking. Can this innocent embrace ageplay and be Daddy’s good girl?

Written for Ages 18+.



Exclusive Excerpt:


Holly Knox was naturally submissive but so painfully shy, a stranger might never guess that she was a genius who could be the next Bill Gates. However fucking high she ranked in MENSA, the twenty-two-year-old entrepreneurial software designer was a wide-eyed innocent when it came to BDSM. Then again, when he was her age—some sixteen years ago—he was still learning the ropes, as it were.

Blushing furiously, she stared at him from across the table he’d chosen, in a dimly lit corner at the far end of the hotel lounge. He watched, fascinated, as that brilliant mind of hers processed what he’d just proposed—a night of kinky debauchery and the best sex of her life.

“I mean…you…you…you can’t be serious,” she stammered. While a lot of men wouldn’t look beyond the no-nonsense glasses, Dylan saw everything. Her heart-shaped face. Delicious, pouty lips. Satin cheeks. Initially flushed with embarrassment, the pink had quickly edged toward the red he wanted to see on her tush after he disciplined her ass.

Her emerald eyes were as clear as glass and lushly fringed with curling lashes that went on for miles, even without mascara. She’d worn makeup tonight, which told him something. She was usually scrub-faced. With such incredible skin and that air of innocence, she’d be in her thirties before she stopped getting carded.

So young. So innocent. So fucking ripe for the picking.

He cocked a brow and offered half a smile. She’d been resistant and he’d been patient, but this was going to happen, one way or another. It was simply a matter of getting her to agree to his preferences. He felt good about his chances; he’d made a small fortune from his powers of persuasion—although corporate law was proving far simpler than this complex young woman, who hid her femininity under frumpy clothes and her genius IQ behind conservative black-framed eyewear.

Just because she was reclusive to a point bordering on sociopathic didn’t mean she couldn’t be coaxed from her shell. After all, he’d talked her into meeting him for a drink, and she didn’t even do alcohol.

“You can’t,” she repeated.

First mistake. Topping from the bottom. That’s ten.

She folded her arms across her pert little A-cup breasts and put on her game face, narrowing her brilliant green eyes and snapping her red head, tossing flames. She was a tiny thing, barely five feet tall in ballet flats. He’d have to be careful with that exquisite skin. Every mark was going to show.

“We can’t,” she huffed.

Nice try. Twenty.

“I w-won’t.”

She stumbled on the words. Her eyes widened when she realized that it sounded like she was wavering.

Twenty-five. Only because he was feeling generous.

He stroked the stubble on his jaw. Three days without shaving, just for her. He slid his gaze south, watched her nipples harden to diamond points beneath her buttoned-to-the-neck blouse, heard the catch in her breath, and caught the unmistakable scent of her arousal. She might not imbibe the fruit of the vine, but there was no way in hell that her abstinence extended to pleasures of the flesh.

“Really?” He parried a verbal thrust and pinned her with his gaze. The combination of Dom eyes and Dom voice was enough to make her shut the fuck up—for the space of about three breaths.

Looking wistfully at his untouched whiskey, he imagined the smooth, smoky burn of thirty-year-old single malt sliding down his throat. Across the table, Holly scanned the area to make certain that no one was in earshot. “It’s…it’s demeaning,” she hissed. “Misogynistic.”

Thirty.

She was trouble. He knew it. But beneath that prim and proper librarian-esque façade was a passionate beauty just waiting to be awakened. Trouble? Hell, yes, but so worth the effort.

Although it had been a few years since he’d trained a novice submissive, the lesson plan remained, beginning with the basics. He set his glass aside, in deference to her, as a sign of his willingness to compromise. “A dominant must prove himself worthy of his submissive’s trust,” he told her. “To be allowed to meet your needs is an honor for you to give and for me to earn. Tell me, Holly. And be honest. Do you trust me?”

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and shied her glance away. “Yes. I guess.” Fingering the stem of her glass, she exhaled softly. “You’ve never given me any reason not to, but that was business. This is…” She lifted a hand and gestured helplessly, not ready to acknowledge what he already knew.

“Pleasure,” he finished her sentence. “Pleasure—ideally, far beyond what you’ve ever experienced or known. Holly, you should understand, I don’t do anything halfway. I believe that intimate acts should be…extraordinary, whether it’s a hot, hard fuck, an all-night sexual marathon, or multiple, mind-blowing orgasms—pleasures taken, pleasure given, preferably with sexual intercourse, but only if you’re ready.”

Behind those black-framed lenses, her eyes were wide. Thoughtful. He wondered if she knew just how sexy she was, blushing like a school girl on prom night.

“I want to know what tempts you. Learn what you’ll let me do, to tease you, to please you. I wonder, what can I do that feels so good, it sends you spiraling out of control and I won’t stop until I hold you, shattered, in my arms? Eroticism, kink—they’re just different points on the compass. Whatever path we take, it all comes down to the seduction of the senses. Getting there…well, every nuance, every detail matters. Whatever I choose—believe me—is for the enhancement of your pleasure and mine. If plain and simple is all you’ll consider…I’ll be honest. I won’t like it but I can accept it, and I’ll make certain that you’re satisfied. But there’s a world of flavors beyond vanilla. Nothing would please me more than to give you a taste.”


About the Author

Nia Farrell is a founding member of the Wicked Pens and an award-winning, multi-genre author who is published in romance, erotic romance, nonfiction, poetry, music, and children's books, with one documentary screenplay under her literary belt. A seventh-generation Illinoisan, she's an old soul and a period reenactor who's been into corsets for centuries, although she wears them more to Civil War events these days. 

Living close to St. Louis, Missouri, on the east side of the river, Nia has been involved in the metaphysical community for over twenty-five years. She is a Reiki Master and crystal healer whose work encompasses this and other lifetimes. In her book Something More (The Three Graces Book 3), BDSM and submission are tools for healing post-rape PTSD. Something More was a finalist for Best BDSM Book of the Year, Ménage Category, in the 2016 Golden Flogger Awards. Find Her, the first book in her latest series, Avenging Angels MC, reached #9 on Amazon’s best seller list for BDSM Erotica.

Her debut books from The Three Graces Series (Something Else, Something Different, and Something More) are kink with a paranormal twist. Soul mates, reincarnation, karmic fallout, shamanism, and psychic abilities come into play. Personal experience and extensive research go into crafting her characters, but it's her sense of whimsy that has made fictional Posey, Minnesota, the ménage capital of the United States with a Monty-Python-themed diner that's central to the plotlines. 

Nia was fortunate enough to meet her soul mate early on. She married her high school sweetheart, raised two children, and began writing at her husband's suggestion. She has been published in erotic romance since 2015.

Find Nia Farrell Online:

Nia Farrell’s webpage http://niafarrell.wordpress.com

Nia Farrell’s Amazon author page http://viewauthor.at/NiaFarrell

Nia Farrell’s Facebook author page http://bit.ly/NiaFarrellFB

Nia Farrell newsletter http://bit.ly/NiaErinnNews

Farrell’s Foxes, Nia Farrell’s Street Team page https://www.facebook.com/farrellsfoxes

Nia Farrell’s Wicked Pens author page https://wickedpens.wordpress.com/nia-farrell/

Nia Farrell’s Goodreads author page http://goodreads.com/Nia_Farrell

Twitter https://twitter.com/AuthrNiaFarrell

Tumblr http://authorniafarrell.tumblr.com/

Pinterest https://www.pinterest.com/authrniafarrell/

Google+ https://plus.google.com/+NiaFarrellAuthor

INTERVIEWS:

R.B. O’Brien interview http://rbobrien.weebly.com/news-and-featured-authors/archives/08-2016.

Lilah E. Noir interview https://lilahenoir.wordpress.com/2016/08/04/author-spotlight-nia-farrell/, and

Pandora Spocks interview https://pandoraspocks.me/2016/05/05/watch-this-space-something-special-by-nia-farrell/

Always Sexy/Lola White interview (with my sex-gone-wrong scene) http://authorlolawhite.tumblr.com/post/148734078407/nia-farrell-is-one-of-mr-blackthornes-wicked-pen

Internet Radio: Anything Goes with Bennet Pomerantz http://www.blogtalkradio.com/bennetpomerantz2/2017/05/13/anything-goes-nia-farrell

Tuesday, September 12, 2017

Keeper by Nia Farrell

Your fall intense read:




43,000 words of secrets, discoveries, and D/s. You can find this book here:

Amazon               Goodreads 

Luke “Mad Dog” McLanahan and Isabella Castellari have a history. Kind of. He’s a member of the Avenging Angels MC and one of four brothers whom she thinks slept with her sister three years ago. Or did they? Nothing is as it seems. Isabella’s world is turned upside down when lies are exposed, truths revealed, and the man she’s been fantasizing about for three long years makes her an offer that she should refuse but can’t.

When Mad Dog recognizes Isabella stranded on a rural country road, remembering her toxic sister, he almost doesn't stop. Seeing her as an end to a means, he brings her back to the Avenging Angels MC clubhouse and quickly learns that she's different—very different—than what he expected. She's a curious innocent, and willing to submit to his domination. But there are complications. A mob boss uncle, protective parents, a traitorous friend, and secrets that have been kept for far too long. Secrets that will either bind them together or tear them apart.

This book has adult content and may contain triggers. Written for ages 18+.



Read an exclusive excerpt:

He couldn’t deny, it was a huge ego stroke to know that he was her first. But she was also Isabella Fucking Castellari. Never Miss Little Italy like her sister, but they shared the same blood ties to the fucking mob.

Of course, Isabella didn’t know that he knew about her crime family connection. He’d been keeping too many fucking secrets for too fucking long. Her sister Krissy and her Uncle Giovanni were just some of many.

Rather than open that can of worms, he chose a safer subject.

“So, tell me.” Reaching, he smoothed her hair back from her face and traced the line of her jaw with two fingers. “Before tonight, did you know that Anna was seeing Richie?”

She sighed softly. “No. I mean, I thought that she was seeing someone, but she always had an excuse. Usually, it was homework, but then we graduated and she was still too busy.”

Fuck.

Mad Dog forced his voice to stay calm. “How old are you, Isabella?” Please tell me you’re not jail bait on top of a mob boss’s niece.

“I turned eighteen on March sixth. Michelangelo’s birthday. And the day the Alamo fell, if you’re into Texas history. How old are you?”

“Thirty.” Twelve years her senior. He rubbed a hand across his face and blew out softly. “Jesus, that sounds old.”

Reaching across, she caught his dog tags, weighed them in her hand, and said solemnly, “You’re not old. You’re experienced. And I’m hoping that you’ll teach me.”

He leveled a look at her. He needed to be honest, at least in this. “Clubhouse life isn’t for everyone,” he told her. “We do things different here. We’re all in the BDSM lifestyle as well as the club. The men here Dominate. The women submit. Did you read Fifty Shades or watch the movies?”

Isabella nodded.

“Well, fuck that shit. That’s not how things are done. You want to learn? We’ll get cleaned up and go downstairs. The lounge is your classroom. You’ll learn things there that they don’t teach in college. Are you signed up to go anywhere this fall?”

“SIU,” she said. “For photography and graphic design.”

He remembered the point-and-shoot he’d found in her purse. “You a shutterbug?”

“You could say that. I took my first picture when I was four. Got my own camera when I was six. I never leave home without one.”

“And the graphic design?”

“You know all those books on my reader? Someone does the covers. Might as well be me. Take the pictures, offer premades and customs. It’s something that I think I’d enjoy and be good at. I’ve already done one for my cousin. She uses a pen name so that no one knows she writes erotica. She tells people that she’s a ghost writer and can’t disclose anything.”

“She had you do a cover? Like, with models? Naked models?”

Isabella bit her lip and coiled a strand of hair around her finger. “Well, it is erotica,” she said coyly.

He wasn’t smiling. She was eighteen, for Christ’s sake. What the hell was her cousin thinking?

“Just teasing!” She traced his lips with the pad of her index finger. He caught it between his teeth and refused to give it back until her eyes had gone smoky and her thoughts were disjointed. “She, um…” Isabella cleared her throat and tried again. “She dressed up like a cheerleader. The cover shows her chest and midriff. You…um…you can’t see her face.”

“Paperback or just e-book?”

“Both.” She smiled with quiet pride. “I have a copy, if you’d like to see it.”

“I would.” If they were going to try and make a go of this, he needed to know what she was doing. What she had planned. Then he’d expand her horizons where he could.

“And the graphic design—apart from the book covers. Can you draw?”

“Yes.”

“Paint?”

Her brow scrunched. “Yes? Some? That’s not my—”

“Sweet. You could learn to tattoo.”

“Wait. What?” She looked at him, confused. He’d gone too fast and lost her. Now she was trying to get her bearings.

He shifted gears. “How about a summer job? You working anywhere?”

“No. I’m taking two online classes. Getting some of the required subjects taken care of so that I can immerse myself in the good stuff come fall.”

“The club owns a tat shop. Angel Ink. Flynn will need to see what you can do, but if you pass muster and want a full- or part-time job, he can use the help. Front desk scheduling, answering the phone, checking in deliveries. Normal receptionist-office assistant stuff. He can teach you on the side, if you want to learn. Never hurts to learn another job skill, just in case the market for photography tanks, no one’s hiring graphic designers, and your cousin can’t afford what you’re worth.”

That last bit seemed to perk her up. “How do you know what I’m worth?” she challenged. “My professors might think that I suck.”

He begged to differ. “As your teacher, I would say that your oral skills need developed, but the student shows promise. Think you’re ready for your next lesson?”

Mad Dog caught her hand and wrapped her fingers around his half-hard shaft. “Just a hint. The correct answer is yes….”


About the Author


Nia Farrell is a founding member of the Wicked Pens and an award-winning, multi-genre author who is published in romance, erotic romance, nonfiction, poetry, music, and children's books, with one documentary screenplay under her literary belt. A seventh-generation Illinoisan, she's an old soul and a period reenactor who's been into corsets for centuries, although she wears them more to Civil War events these days. 

Living close to St. Louis, Missouri, on the east side of the river, Nia has been involved in the metaphysical community for over twenty-five years. She is a Reiki Master and crystal healer whose work encompasses this and other lifetimes. In her book Something More (The Three Graces Book 3), BDSM and submission are tools for healing post-rape PTSD. Something More was a finalist for Best BDSM Book of the Year, Ménage Category, in the 2016 Golden Flogger Awards. Find Her, the first book in her latest series, Avenging Angels MC, reached #9 on Amazon’s best seller list for BDSM Erotica.

Her debut books from The Three Graces Series (Something Else, Something Different, and Something More) are kink with a paranormal twist. Soul mates, reincarnation, karmic fallout, shamanism, and psychic abilities come into play. Personal experience and extensive research go into crafting her characters, but it's her sense of whimsy that has made fictional Posey, Minnesota, the ménage capital of the United States with a Monty-Python-themed diner that's central to the plotlines.

Nia was fortunate enough to meet her soul mate early on. She married her high school sweetheart, raised two children, and began writing at her husband's suggestion. She has been published in erotic romance since 2015.

Website, Author Pages, and Social Media Links:

Nia Farrell’s webpage http://niafarrell.wordpress.com

Nia Farrell’s Amazon author page http://viewauthor.at/NiaFarrell

Nia Farrell’s Facebook author page http://bit.ly/NiaFarrellFB

Nia Farrell newsletter http://bit.ly/NiaErinnNews

Farrell’s Foxes, Nia Farrell’s Street Team page https://www.facebook.com/farrellsfoxes

Nia Farrell’s Wicked Pens author page https://wickedpens.wordpress.com/nia-farrell/

Nia Farrell’s Goodreads author page http://goodreads.com/Nia_Farrell

Twitter https://twitter.com/AuthrNiaFarrell

Tumblr http://authorniafarrell.tumblr.com/

Pinterest https://www.pinterest.com/authrniafarrell/

Google+ https://plus.google.com/+NiaFarrellAuthor

INTERVIEWS:

R.B. O’Brien interview http://rbobrien.weebly.com/news-and-featured-authors/archives/08-2016.

Lilah E. Noir interview https://lilahenoir.wordpress.com/2016/08/04/author-spotlight-nia-farrell/, and

Pandora Spocks interview https://pandoraspocks.me/2016/05/05/watch-this-space-something-special-by-nia-farrell/

Always Sexy/Lola White interview (with my sex-gone-wrong scene) http://authorlolawhite.tumblr.com/post/148734078407/nia-farrell-is-one-of-mr-blackthornes-wicked-pen

Internet Radio: Anything Goes with Bennet Pomerantz http://www.blogtalkradio.com/bennetpomerantz2/2017/05/13/anything-goes-nia-farrell

Monday, September 11, 2017

Taming Lady Lydia

A Regency Lady requires a firm hand…


A new regency spanking romance now available from Felicity Brandon and Stormy Night Publications! This novel is 163,000 words of erotic romance goodness from this award winning author.

Find this book on Amazon and Goodreads

About this Book: When eighteen-year-old Lady Lydia Franklin becomes the ward of Lord Thomas Markham after her father’s death, she quickly discovers that the wealthy, handsome gentleman believes in strict discipline for wayward young women. Her penchant for naughtiness soon earns her a sound spanking, but despite his willingness to punish her as often and as shamefully as he feels it necessary, Thomas’ firm-handed correction leaves Lydia helplessly aroused.


Though he is charged with ensuring that Lydia’s innocence is preserved, Thomas cannot help but notice her body’s response to his stern chastisement. It isn’t long before she is lying naked across his lap as she is spanked thoroughly and then brought to a blushing climax, and over the coming days he sets about teaching her what it means to surrender herself completely to a dominant man.

Being taken in Thomas’ arms proves more pleasurable than Lydia ever dreamed, and she finds herself imagining a future as his wife rather than his ward, but the dark rumors about his past are hard to ignore. When he asks for her hand she agrees to be his bride, but once the wedding is over will the bond between them hold firm or will it all end in scandal and heartbreak?

Publisher’s Note: Taming Lady Lydia includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

A note from the author: Taming Lady Lydia is the most sensual and potent romance I have ever penned. Lord Markham is the Regency hero I always fantasised about... He’s a strict authoritarian with a loving, tender heart.




Read a naughty Excerpt:

“You can either be a good girl, behave and obey my requests…” He pauses, watching my responses carefully. “Or, my love… you can resist me, try me, and be soundly spanked for your trouble. Do you know which you have chosen tonight?”

I swallow at the question, my hips raising beneath our entwined bodies as though they choose to answer for me. “I have disobeyed you,” I whisper.

He smiles, his brow rising wryly at my comment. “Yes,” he agrees, kissing me chastely on the lips. “And so you will be spanked.”

“I am sorry, Thomas,” I whimper, not really sure if I am truly sorry, or whether I just enjoy playing the heroine to his bondage scene.

He is already moving down my body as he replies. “Thank you, my love,” he replies, and there is genuine warmth in his tone. “But you know the rules. You are to be punished and then you will be pleasured.”

About the Author:

International bestselling & award winning writer of BDSM, spanking erotic romance.

Voted Favourite Historical Fiction, 2016, Golden Flogger Finalist, 2016, and Spanking Romance Review runner-up, 2016.

Founding Wicked Pen writer.

Find Felicity Online:


Amazon      Barnes & Noble        iTunes          Facebook        Facebook profile        

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Wednesday, August 30, 2017

What are YOU reading?

Another story brought to you by the Wicked Pen Writer JC Winchester



The Plot: This is a story about a woman's desire to set up a business for a specific market: sexual pregnancy fetish. After finding the perfect large home and fixing it up new, Mistress Alexis sets out to fill spots for her fetish prostitution ring by interviewing girls who find themselves in need of a stable environment and good homes for their future children. The girls are brought in for testing and rated on their performance by both Mistress Alexis and willing men. After girls have been chosen, they get to work on fulfilling the needs of their clientele, including couples who wish to have children without all the hassle of giving birth, therefor selecting a woman as a breeder. Mistress Alexis keeps her word in taking care of her girls, her clients, and herself.

My Take: Specific fetishes aren't something I search for specifically when I go looking for something new to read, but I found this story fascinating. There's something intriguing about the maternal body that is both beautiful and amazing, and I can understand that although this isn't my personal fetish, how some people may find the pregnant form sexually appealing. This story was creative in writing style, narration, and plot, making me wonder what would happen next. I appreciated the variety of erotic scenes which ranged from vouyerism to anal, menage to ff, and included a range of body types, ethnicities, and personalities. Sexual encounters were believable and entertaining.  

My Rating: My only complaint (my usual complaint about short stories, lol, sorry) is length. I could really see this book being a novel with a more complicated story, but for the sake of a quick read, this a is a good one! There's something for every taste whether the reader is male, female, or other, sure to fulfill every taste. I give this book 4.5 out of 5 swollen bellies!

Find JC Winchester Online

Facebook      Twitter     Amazon

Thursday, August 24, 2017

What are YOU reading?

I've recently finished reading "Storyville" by Wicked Pen Writer Maggie May.



The Plot: This is a story of young love blossoming in the most unusual way--one of the lovers is a ghost. The narrator is a young woman who's recently moved to New Orleans to take a new job shortly after breaking up with her former rock star boyfriend.  She meets the beautiful, debonair Jan Baptist, who shows her around the area and delights her with his manners and knowledge of history. After realizing that he only shows up from time to time, and usually around the cemetery that she loves across from, she comes to believe that Jan Baptist is in fact a ghost. This doesn't deter her, not even when he takes her down into a crypt that time travels into the past. She's fascinated and curious. The attraction and desire for this beautiful ghost is strong enough to surpass the knowledge that Jan Baptist is married, bisexual, and dead. All these things seem to enhance her experience, making falling for him a sure thing. After several dates and a mix of various sexual experiences  the whirlwind romance abruptly comes to an end. Jan Baptist has only a limited time to spend with the living.

My Take: The most wonderful thing about this story is the narration. The author's voice is consistent and wonderful to read. Bonus for well placed vocabulary and a clean manuscript. I found the story easy and relaxing to read, engaging, and very creative. I always appreciate stories that surprise me, so when the narrator discovered Jan Baptist had a wife, and that his wife wanted to sleep with her, she went with it to please him, having a good time with it. This happened again in another sex scene when another man was involved. I'm not sure that in reality a person would just go with a ghost or go with a sexual experience after such a short time of knowing someone, but for the sake of fiction, it was entertaining. The sex was graphic enough to arouse but still leave me wanting more. Descriptions were well written and believable. My only criticism of this story would be its length. I would've liked to see a longer romance, more explanation as to how Jan Baptist was able to come into the world of the living, and how the narrator was able to move into the world of the dead and back.

My Rating: I give this story 4 our of 5 sexy ghosts! 

You can connect with Maggie May on FaceBook, Twitter, or visit her Amazon Author Page for more of her fantastic books!

Monday, May 29, 2017

Cover Reveal: The Queer Collection



It's finally here!



 A compilation of my best short stories is now available in one book! 
This collection includes The Encounter, Compatible Gardens, The Dragon's Gift, and A Place of Permanence. With two gay and two lesbian stories, and heat ratings from sweet romance to spicy hot, there's something for everyone to enjoy.

Like my cover? It was created with the help of Calderwood Covers. Check him out on Facebook



Excerpt from "The Dragon's Gift"

A long claw presses against my lips, preventing my words from becoming anything more than unintelligible garble. It’s one of those sensitive places on my body; when touched under the right circumstances by the right person, I spiral into delicious shivers. The sensation penetrates both upper and lower lips like a delicate kiss, courses through my cheeks, and triggers my on button.

And Maxine knows this. We’re friends—we talk about everything from our boring breakfast made by Grandma on vacation in the boonies, to the last person either of us fucked. My triggers are no secret.

I gulp as her claw becomes the flat of her finger, tracing the outline of my mouth and further sending me alight. I want to close my eyes and accept the responses from my body, but my mind tells me I should see who causes them and understand why. But all I see is the dragon and the light of the lantern flickering, appearing and disappearing as the shape of Maxine’s costume continues to sway back and forth, repeatedly blocking it out.

Why knowingly trigger me? Maxine is never cruel, nor does she make decisions lightly. She’s methodical in all aspects of her life, carefully choosing every move before its execution. I think surprise and want to melt into the floor. There could be no greater gift than finally experiencing the touch from the single most desirable person in my life, and no better place for her first experience with the same sex than the private dark under the stage where Maxine has just fabulously performed.

A single clawed digit pushes into my mouth, spreading my lips apart and caressing over the flat of my tongue. I create an O shape around it and curl around her finger. The front of my tongue slides smoothly over her pointed tip as she withdraws, and I enjoy the light smacking sound our actions make from my suction once she’s left my mouth. My mind wanders as I imagine gliding in and out of multiple places…extra-long caresses reaching extra, extra deep… If this is really happening, I tell myself I cannot let her down.

I reach with both my hands to grasp the hand still floating in front of my face. I kiss each knuckle in turn, and then lick the space between her thumb and pointer finger with the tip of my tongue. The texture of the costume is rough in the opposite direction of the layered fabric, and smooth as glass down the other way. I taste something I imagine to be the remnants of the stage makeup she might’ve helped a fellow actor draw on, but it’s the warmth radiating from underneath that lures me further; I want to feel it all over my body. Grasping her hand tightly, I place it over my face, guide it down over my features to my neck, and push into the dip of my shirt collar. I feel the trail linger like a mild burn long after her hand cascades onto my shirt fabric and pauses above my rapidly beating heart.

My eyes closed sometime during the action, but I open them to confess what I’ve always wanted to say, “I want you.”


Tuesday, May 9, 2017

An Open Letter to my Former Publisher: Torquere Press

The following letter expresses my own personal thoughts and opinions and does not speak for all former Torquere Press employees. This letter serves to fulfill my need for closure with the Torqeuere Press issue.

An Open Letter to my former publisher, Torquere Press: 

A part of me that is bitter desperately hopes there is a special, designated circle of hell for those who break their word, but the light inside of me battles this bitterness, wishing to set it aside. We reap what we sow, the past will haunt us, and a higher power will be our eventual judge. I only ever did my best to be a dependable, responsible human being while included in your collective fold of talented authors, editors, proofreaders, and artists, and therefore can with an honest heart say that at the end of this letter I will have washed my hands clean of you. 

What you have done is beyond imaginable. Anger, like mourning, is a process, and I feel entitled to explain this to you. 

You made me promises backed up by legal contracts, encouraged me to submit more work to help Torquere Press grow, and accepted everything I gave you. You “shot the shit” with me on social media, listening to my hopes and dreams, allowing me to spill secrets and express the deepest emotions of my heart. And as our professional affiliation blossomed into friendship, I put my trust in you. I kept my trust in you despite others speaking out against you. I defended you, stood in your corner, and called these others haters. You said thank you, and told me how much my friendship meant. 

But you’re liars. 

These others who spoke negative were not lying. These others were trying to give warning. You stopped paying your authors. You stopped paying me. To this day you still owe me statements and royalties for ¾ of 2016, which I imagine I will never see. You excused yourself with illness, with stress, with being beyond busy, but somehow you were free of time enough to do nothing and make your employees wonder where has all the money gone? You left your readers in the air, unable to download their paid purchases from your website. You let your editors, proofreaders, and artists continue to work on the promise that you could and would be back on track soon. You misled your authors to believe that something was coming when you had no intention of seeing your promises through. And while you failed to pay everyone, you had the nerve to offer me a paid proofreading position—attempting to use me further—knowing full well you could never pay me. There was no warning for your abrupt closure. Never did you give anyone a plan of when or how you would deal with the situation. You chose to ignore us all. But what’s worse than all this is the rampant, uncontrolled abuse of each and every author’s work that you continued to - and still to this day - continue to sell online despite breach of contract on your end, efforts made by authors for reversal of rights, and despite giving some of us our rights back. . What you’ve done is unforgiveable. Our work is part of our soul, and you exploited us. Honesty could have gone a long way... You could have handled this differently, and you chose not to. 

Friends don’t do this. Professionals don’t do this. 

I’ve done all I can. I’ve had my work removed from distributor sites since you neglected to do so. I got myself a lawyer to do all he could for me. I contacted authorities seeking help. There’s little more I can do without filing in small claims court in your state. But this is something I can’t do; I live on another continent. 

That’s right, ladies. You’ve gotten away with it. You’ve collected thousands and thousands of dollars—taken the bread off my table, the shirt off my back, the money for my kid’s college fund—and done God knows what with it. 

I’ve never felt so betrayed. I lost my faith in people. I lost my faith in publishing. What’s worst is that I lost faith in myself, feeling blind and ignorant. I haven’t been able to write more than a few dozen words for months because you soiled my creativity, dragged me to a dark place where I couldn’t breathe. 

But I can’t be bitter about it anymore. I have to move on. My work is online again, and I’m now part of a talented group of authors who cross-promote their work together. I’m making new friends—trustworthy friends. I will write new stories that you’re not a part of and which you cannot steal from me. My spirit will heal, is healing. 

I’m done being angry, sad, and creatively destroyed. I’m done wondering about how you live with yourself. I’m finished wasting another thought on you two duplicitous women. But I’m not sorry in admitting how I’m comforted in knowing that your names are mud, you failed as honest human beings, and that any other universe-directed comeuppance heading your way will be undoubtedly justified. It’s out of my hands now. My hands are clean. 

Your former writer, 

Angora Shade