Rejection – It’s Not Personal: Guest Post By Doris O’Connor

Thank you, Elizabeth, for letting me stop by on my blog tour. This is my last stop, and I thought I would talk about that dreaded R-word. Every writer will have experienced rejections, some kind, some downright hurtful, and some very constructive ones that will have helped you to develop in your journey. I’ve run the whole gamut of them since I started to pursue publication in January 2011, and with my story The Billionaire’s Unwanted Virgin, I’ve had a timely reminder that multi published or not, rejections still happen.

Publishing is a subjective business and sometimes the editor whose desk you land on will simply not like your voice, or deem the piece not suitable for their publishing house. This is what happened with The Billionaire’s Unwanted Virgin. I subbed a proposal to a well-known publisher, and received a ‘not suitable for their lines’ standard R in an eye-watering fast turnaround that left me quite breathless and if I’m honest stunned. It had been a while since I’d received a rejection, and it was a humbling reminder that not everyone will like my voice, and that my stories will not fit in some places.

It is perhaps ironic that I started this story with a view to turning down the heat content…

I can see my critique group laughing now. Turning down the heat and my writing — just not going to happen. Sure enough once Lakota and Alice are married, the gloves are off and their sex scenes are sizzling, and funny, and so emotional in parts they made me cry as well as reach for a fan.

In a way that rejection was the best thing that could have happened for this story, because I gave up my pre-conceived notions and just let Alice and Lakota tell me their story, right down to every last gasp, moan, spank, and ultimately tears of joy as they found their Happy Ever After.

Rejection plays a huge part in this story too, for it is my character’s ultimate fear of rejection that keeps them apart, and stops them from opening up to each other about their true feelings. Their black moment is a very black moment indeed, as their internal baggage screws their perception of real events. In their case, rejection is very personal indeed.

Back in the big wide publishing world, it really isn’t personal, though it will feel like that to you. Like I said, when I received mine I was stunned, hurt, and had a brief moment of, “maybe this story isn’t good enough”. However, my characters soon cured me of that notion. They wanted their story told, and like the dutiful writer I am, I sat down and wrote it.

Evernight Publishing agreed with Alice and Lakota, and snapped their story up.

*big grin*

In fact this is an Editor’s pick, and I received some lovely comments from her that made my day. You see, I strive very hard to bring my readers stories worth reading. They will always be hot, but there will always be a haunting love story, and The Billionaire’s Unwanted Virgin is no exception. I loved writing these two, and I hope you, the readers, will love reading about them.

I’ll leave you with the moment where those insecurities drive a wedge between them. Tell me about some of your insecurities for an entry into the contest. Details below.

Excerpt:

Alice woke up with a start at the sound of smashing crockery. What on earth was going on?

“Sir, if I might suggest that—” Whatever Forrester was going to say was lost in Lakota’s angry retort.

“Get the fuck out, Forrester. The day I need the advice of a butler, is the day I slit my fucking wrists. Out.”

Another piece of something smashed against the wall, and Alice winced. It seemed Lakota wasn’t in any better mood than he had been in last night.

They’d had their chat, which had quickly turned into an argument over Selina.

“Selina is business, that’s all, Alice. I need her on my side until this merger is over and done with. I thought you’d be pleased I am turning my father’s company around. You’re the one who kept on and on at me that I need to make my peace with him. Now that I am, you’re moaning at the time I spend doing it. Jesus, I can’t win here. What the fuck do you want me to do, Alice? What do you want from me?”

He’d looked exasperated with her, running his hands through his hair until it had all stood up at far too sexy angles and her hands had itched to untangle his raven tresses. She hadn’t acted on that impulse though. Instead she had wrapped her arms around her middle and swallowed her angry tears back down.

“The mere fact that you have to ask shows how hopeless this all is.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Alice. Stop talking in riddles and give me a clue here. You went into this … this marriage with your eyes wide open. I didn’t force you into anything, and I never promised you the happily ever after. If you’ve now decided to change the parameters, then … then … fuck it, I can’t do this sober.” He’d stalked away from her and had poured himself an over generous measure of Scotch, which he’d downed in one angry swallow.

“I haven’t changed any parameters as you put it. I am well aware this is just another business arrangement for you. That’s fine. Contrary to what my family seem to think I wouldn’t be so stupid as to fall in love with you.”

He’d flinched as though she’d had physically hit him, and the hurt she’d seen in his eyes for a brief second had made her almost want to tell him the truth, but she couldn’t expose herself like that, she just couldn’t. So she’d rambled on, her hurt feelings and jealous suspicions spurring her on like some demented fish wife.

“At the very least you could do me the common courtesy to not flaunt your bit on the side in front of me.

“You what?” He’d shouted that question at her and looked about ready to murder her. A small part of her had rejoiced at his outrage, for surely that meant he cared. It meant he hadn’t done any of the things that devil sitting on her shoulder, whispering in her ear, said he had done. But the other part of her had been terrified as he’d advanced on her with white knuckled fists, and she’d flinched when he’d raised his hand. Why on earth she had done that she’d had no idea, other than it had been too reminiscent of the many arguments she’d witnessed Mary having with her so called boyfriend. Arguments that had ended up with her getting in front of her sister, taking the blows intended for her—blows that had to be covered by make up to not raise her parents’ suspicions—blows that had meant she’d kept quiet when she should have told of Mary and inevitably would have spared her sister so much. Of course that would also have meant they wouldn’t have had Beth and she never would have met Lakota. Swings and fucking roundabouts. Alice gave a short laugh in the light of day, but it hadn’t been funny last night.

Lakota had shut down utterly and completely at her reaction, and her heart had bled bitter tears at the tight set of his shoulders, and the awfully controlled way he’d been speaking to her.

“You really think that little of me, Alice? What, just because I’m half Sioux and grew up in a slum, I’m now a wife beating shit of crap as well as an adulterer, am I?”

“I didn’t mean…”

“Spare me, Alice. Your face says it all. For the record, I didn’t touch Selina. I wouldn’t go near the likes of her with a fucking barge pole if you paid me for it. She is a means to an end. Just like you, as it turns out, my dear wife. Thank you for reminding me of that fact. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight, so you can stop looking at me as though I’m going to jump you.”

He’d slammed the bedroom door shut, and Alice had burst into tears. She’d cried herself to sleep, in fact, wondering when it had all gone so terribly wrong.

(for the official red hot excerpt click here)

****

Blurb:

Lay back and think of England, she could do this. It was only sex, after all. Auctioning off her virginity was the easy part—going through with it not so easy.  When Alice realizes who has acquired her, keeping her emotions out of the deal seems an impossible task.

Self-made billionaire Lakota, Lance Kemnay has no time for women, let alone one, who would sell her virginity to the highest bidder. Ever practical, however, he sees in Alice a solution to his immediate need for a wife. The emotions she stirs in him are just lust, and lust can be dealt with. As they connect emotionally and physically, his resolve to keep his heart aloof is tested beyond limits.

Can he trust his tender feelings, or has he been taken for a fool by the one woman he thought he could trust?

Buy links: http://www.evernightpublishing.com/the-billionaires-unwanted-virgin-by-doris-oconnor/

http://www.bookstrand.com/the-billionaires-unwanted-virgin-mf

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-thebillionaire039sunwantedvirgin-1189225-147.html

http://www.amazon.com/The-Billionaires-Unwanted-Virgin-ebook/dp/B00CMTKDSG

 

****

 

Author Bio:

Glutton for punishment would be a good description for Doris… at least that’s what she hears on an almost daily basis when people find out that she has a brood of nine children, ranging from adult to toddler and lives happily in a far too small house, cluttered with children, pets, dust bunnies, and one very understanding and supportive husband. Domestic goddess she is not.

There is always something better to do after all, like working on the latest manuscript and trying not to scare the locals even more than usual by talking out loud to the voices in her head. Her characters tend to be pretty insistent to get their stories told, and you will find Doris burning the midnight oil on a regular basis. Only time to get any peace and quiet and besides, sleep is for wimps.

She likes to spin sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get. From contemporary to paranormal, BDSM to F/F, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.

STALKING LINKS:                                  

Website Blog Twitter  Facebook Pinterest  Evernight Publishing

Amazon All Romance E-Books BookStrand Barnes&Noble

CONTEST

I am giving away two copies of The Billionaire’s Unwanted Virgin. Follow me on my tour and leave a comment on each stop. Every comment is an entry into the contest. I will pick winners by random selection on Monday 27^th May.

In addition I am giving away a copy from my back list on each stop.  Good Luck, and thanks for reading.

Here are the stops:

Monday 20^th May http://badbarbsreviews.blogspot.co.uk/

Tuesday 21^st May http://liv-honeywell.com/

Wednesday 22^nd May http://erzabetsenchantments.blogspot.co.uk/

Thursday 23^rd May http://kaceyhammellkreations.blogspot.co.uk/

Friday 24^th May http://elizabethcoldwell.wordpress.com/

The Emergency Servicing m/m medical anthology has received a really nice review at The Romance Reviews. Reviewer Lynn calls it ‘a great collection of short, steamy, and sweet love stories’, and says of my novella, Down To Earth, that it’s ‘very sweet and genuine with the emotions of the characters well written’. To read the full review, click on the cover image below.

The Billionaire’s Unwanted Virgin – Review

Alice Wanderlund is desperate for the money that will help her niece, Beth, receive specialist medical treatment – so desperate that she offers to sell her virginity to the highest bidder. She thinks she’s struck lucky when the incredibly wealthy Zeb Kemnay offers an eye-watering amount of money to be her first lover. But Zeb dies before they can meet, and that’s when his brother, Lakota steps in. Lakota’s the most attractive man Alice has ever met, with the striking looks that come from having a Native American mother, and he promises to give her the money she needs as long as she agrees to be his wife. It’ll help him meet a business obligation, and she’ll be able to get Beth her treatment. What starts out as a marriage of convenience soon turns into something more intimate and loving. Do Alice and Lakota really have a future, or will the demons that haunt both of them ruin everything?

It seems you can’t move for books about billionaires (heck, I’ve even chipped in one of my own…) but Lakota is considerably hotter than the man who started the trend, Christian Grey, and the attraction between him and Alice sizzles off the page. Ignore the odd moment that makes you wonder whether this book was originally supposed to have an American setting, like the fact that Alice had been taking Native American studies at university, and her gradual initiation into pleasure at Lakota’s hands will have you hooked. The setting moves from a luxury suite at the Dorchester to a resort in Sri Lanka, and at every turn Alice learns what it means to have great sex at the hands of a skilled lover (with the odd bit of spanking and restraint thrown in). Lakota’s far from perfect, which of course makes him a more interesting character, and both he and Alice are left to wrestle with their own dilemmas as circumstances contrive to threaten their happiness. If you like plenty of conflict to keep a romance interesting, The Billionaire’s Unwanted Virgin certainly provides it, but you’ll be rooting for Alice and Lakota to overcome their problems and find their happy ever after.

On Thursday, Doris O’Connor will be my guest here at The Naughty Corner, talking about rejection and how it shaped The Billionaire’s Unwanted Virgin. Come back then and find out more. In the meantime, the book is available from Evernight Publishing and Amazon.

In The Flesh Comes To London

One of America’s rudest reading events, In the Flesh, relaunches in London at the end of this month, giving well-known erotic writers the chance to share their work with their readers.

Sponsored by Xcite Books and hosted by bestselling erotic memoirist Suzanne Portnoy, In The Flesh London will be held on the last Wednesday of every month at the Alley Cat Bar & Club on Denmark Street. The first event is on 29th May, from 6.30 to 8.30.

I’ll be taking part in this inaugural session, and I’m very much looking forward to it.  I haven’t yet decided on what to read, though it may involve wolves… The lovely KD Grace will also be reading, as will prolific erotica author Jilly Boyd, and the evening will be hosted by Suzanne Portnoy, author of  The Butcher, The Baker, The Candlestick Maker: The Intimate Adventures of a Woman Who Can’t Say No.

For four years In the Flesh was a popular monthly event on the New York street calendar. Curated by erotic writer and editor Rachel Kramer Bussel, it featured the best writers in erotica from the US & UK.

Suzanne Portnoy, who read at the New York event, said, ‘Although it held its final reading in 2010, In the Flesh is fondly remembered by anyone who has ever written erotica. Authors would share their stories to get the audience hot and bothered. It was a great place where established and new writers/bloggers of erotica could share their work in a relaxed, convivial atmosphere. Many UK-based authors performed there and now we are bringing it back to the heart of London, where we hope it will take on a new lease of life.’

The Alley Cat Club is located in the basement of what was once the famous Regent Sound Studios on Denmark Street. Denmark Street, better known as Tin Pan Alley has an illustrious history. The Rolling Stones, the Kinks, Elton John and David Bowie all recorded songs but serial murderer Denis Nilson also worked in the Job Centre on the corner.

Hope to see you there, and if you’re interested in reading at a future In The Flesh night, contact Alison Stokes at Xcite (Alison @ accentpress.co.uk)

Wolf On The Loose

Feast your eyes on the gorgeous, wild creature on this book jacket – and then take a look at the wolf, too! Must Love Wolves is my first foray into the well-trodden genre of werewolf fiction, and I hope I’ve brought my own particular slant to it. The idea to write about wolf shifters originally came from a review I received of one of my BDSM stories, where the reviewer mentioned that I’d obviously never met a master in real life, because no real master would behave the way my character had. So I thought I’d write this novella, then sit back and wait to be told that I’d obviously never met a real werewolf…

Anyway, Must Love Wolves is the story of university lecturer Neil, who is researching the subject of wolfmen in literature and folklore for his doctorate, while trying to forget about a disastrous cyber-affair that has seriously dented his trust in men. His solitude on the outskirts of the village of Lochailde is broken when he finds a young man in his cottage garden, half-naked and bearing the marks of a vicious beating. What he doesn’t realise at first is that the man, Logan, is actually a wolf shifter who’s been exiled from his pack.

This is Logan’s reaction to meeting Neil:

Someone was patting gently at his shoulder, trying to wake him. He whined, low in his throat, shifting away from the touch, wanting only to sleep till all his aches were eased. Then that maddening, arousing scent hit his nostrils again, and he blinked open his eyes.

‘Hey, are you OK? Who did this to you?’

The blond stranger’s voice held a mix of concern and fear. Hardly surprising, he thought, raising himself to a sitting position with less difficulty than he’d expected. He was afraid himself, never having been quite so close to a human before. There’d been brushes with hunters in the woods, but he’d always had Lennox, or one of the older pack members, to keep him safe, and from them he’d learned to keep a respectable distance from a man with a gun. This man was different; unarmed, and wearing a short, striped towelling robe from which his legs emerged, lean and bare. He bore no immediate threat.

‘Are you OK?’ the stranger asked again.

‘Aye, I’m fine.’ His words sounded gruff, even to his own ears, and for the first time he became aware of a powerful thirst. Quite how far had he run the previous night, and how much punishment had he put his body through? At least his cracked ribs were healing; he no longer felt that sharp little hitch of pain accompanying every breath. Rising to his feet, he added, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know this was your garden. I just needed somewhere to rest.’

‘That’s not a problem.’ The stranger’s eyes, soft blue-green behind the lenses of his spectacles, blazed with concern. ‘I’m more worried about how you came by those injuries.’

‘I – I got into a fight with my brother. We – well, I think it’s safe to say we’ve come to a parting of the ways. But honestly, this isn’t so bad.’

‘Not so bad? We should be reporting the bastard to the police.’

That was the last thing he wanted, anyone other than this man knowing even a fraction of the truth about what had happened. He shook his head. ‘Like I say, it’s over and done between us. There’s no need to get anyone else involved. Maybe I should just be on my way.’

‘No way. You need a bath, and some breakfast at the very least.’ The stranger made to usher him inside the house, then stopped, proffering a hand in welcome. ‘I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself. I’m Neil. Neil Affleck.’

He grasped Neil’s hand, fighting the urge to squeeze as hard as he would when greeting a fellow pack member. A human hand’s bones would crack under the force, or so he’d always been told. Though this man’s bones didn’t feel fragile; his whole body seemed to fizz with a subtle power that was most appealing. A jolt of lust shot straight down to his groin, needing to be slaked as urgently as his thirst. ‘Logan Grayling,’ he replied, even though he’d given up his right to use the pack name when he’d been banished from Grayling territory.

‘Come on, let’s get you inside.’

Though in truth he needed no assistance in walking, he accepted the invitation to lean against Neil’s body as they entered the cottage. His mating instincts had been roused beyond endurance by the man’s nearness, and it took all his willpower not to throw the man to the floor and fuck him. But that wasn’t how things worked in the civilised world – and, like it or not, once he’d left the pack he’d become part of that world.

If you want to know whether wolf and man can co-exist, and what happens when Logan realises he’s not the only shifter in Lochailde, check out Must Love Wolves. It’s available from Amazon, and I hope you’ll think it’s howlingly good…

An Unsuitable Man

Here’s a real blast from the past – the first erotic story I ever had published, when I was a young whippersnapper on the staff of Forum magazine, back in 1988. Luckily it hasn’t dated too badly, which is pretty ironic considering there are some very bad dates at its heart…

The worst thing about living with Laura Montgomery was not her tuneless singing in the bath, which woke me up at quarter to seven every morning and prevented me from going back to sleep. It was not the fact that she would borrow my mohair sweater and return it to the drawer covered with make-up stains, nor was it her attempts to cook, which left the inside of the cooker covered in an unidentifiable black gunk and the kitchen looking like a bomb-site. No, these and a hundred general other thoughtlessnesses I could tolerate. The one thing that annoyed me beyond all belief was her habit of bringing home unsuitable men.

There had been a constant stream of these during the five months I had been living with Laura. Each one’s arrival was prefaced with a general announcement that he was the most gorgeous man alive, and no, he was nothing like the last one, who had been a mistake, and yes, this was it. At the most, they lasted six weeks.

The first one I remembered had been Gerry, who Laura had been in the process of disposing of when I moved in; he had passed in a blur of late-night screaming matches and Turkish cigarette smoke.

Then had come Charles, who was something in the City, the something apparently being loud and obnoxious. Conversations with Charles revolved around money, usually how much he had made and how much his Docklands penthouse had gained in value that week. Laura had managed to ignore his overbearing arrogance and egocentricity, but had grown tired of his habit of making date which were then broken at the first hint of a Stock Market slump. We still had half a packet of the expensive coffee beans which Charles drank exclusively mouldering at the back of a cupboard.

Charles had been followed by the charming, boyish Jan, who was of Eastern European extraction. He had brought to their relationship a wicked sense of fun, small cuddly toys which he would leave dotted round the flat for Laura to find, and all the attendant neuroses which went with having an overbearing mother who was only waiting for the day when he brought his blushing bride under the family roof and blessed the union with half a dozen little Jans.

However, the most unsuitable of all Laura’s unsuitable men was the current one, Marcus Barrymore. His family were so rich that he didn’t need to work and he seemed to divide his time between various men’s clubs in Piccadilly and the more exclusive of the Virgin Islands. He had the kind of voice that could grate cheese and a jacket which looked as though it had spent most of its life as a Ford Escort seat cover.

Whatever Marcus did with his money, he did not spend it on Laura. Meals were strictly at-home affairs, and as Laura was terrified of Marcus discovering that she could barely boil an egg, my help was unwillingly enlisted; I had got used to scribbled notes asking me if I could whip up a Chicken Kiev and leave it in the freezer.

Marcus’ most disgusting traits were reserved for the bedroom, although there was a slight overspill, as I had on more than one occasion staggered into the bathroom in the early hours to discover a discarded condom floating in the toilet.

He went at sex with the kind of passion country gents usually reserve for the hunt, even to the point of shouting “Tally-ho!” at the moment of orgasm. The tortured shrieks of the bedsprings were only matched by Laura’s non-stop gasps for mercy, and I found that only listening to loud rock music through headphones would block out the noise. Even today, I still can’t listen to Pink Floyd without falling asleep, although many people who’ve never lived with Laura have also said the same.

But now, finally, my months of passive resistance were about to come to an end. Tonight I was bringing my own unsuitable man home…

 

Geoff Palmer was head of physics at the local comprehensive school where I taught English. He had been the one member of staff out of the sixty or so who’d really made an impression on me in my first confusing week. We’d been on dinner duty together, and he had listened as I moaned about my class of third-year horrors whose idea of decent literature was Page Three of the Sun and who thought Milton was something you cleaned up after babies with.

As well as being sympathetic, he was also extremely attractive: tall, with sandy hair which he continually pushed out his deep grey eyes, and a full, almost pouting mouth. The general consensus among the more gossipy element in the staff room was that he was definitely interested in me, but there was one slight impediment to our getting to know each other a little better – Geoff’s wife, Cathy.

An early, hasty marriage had degenerated into a trial separation. Geoff rarely spoke about Cathy, and I never brought the subject up, but privately I wondered about the wisdom of getting involved with a man who, technically, was still married.

However, as the weeks had passed, our train journeys had ended with gentle pecks on the cheeks which had evolved into more passionate kisses and I had decided to take my chance. I knew that Laura was taking Marcus out to celebrate his birthday, so I made an assignation with Geoff for that evening.

Leaving school that evening, we could have been two of the kids, holding hands and giggling over nothing on our way to the Tube station. Every word, every gesture that passed between us had a sexual meaning, and I could feel myself getting wet between the legs.

At Geoff’s insistence, we stopped at the nearest off-licence to buy a bottle of sweet, fizzy wine. ‘Are you trying to get me drunk?’ I asked.

‘Not so much drunk, more… lubricated,’ Geoff replied knowingly.

By the time we reached the flat, the sexual tension was becoming unbearable. I could have quite cheerfully begun ripping Geoff’s clothes off on the stairs if it hadn’t been for the fact that our neighbour’s cat was sitting on the landing, regarding us with a critical, unbalancing stare.

I fumbled with the key, afraid for a moment that I would open the door to be greeted by Laura. She had gone, but evidence of her hasty departure was everywhere: a discarded pair of tights hanging over the back of a chair; lipstick-smeared tissues on the table, and dirty plates in the sink.

While Geoff uncorked the wine, I slid my hands into his shirt, feeling his warm, taut body. He half-turned and pulled me to him, our soft mouths meeting in a hungry kiss, tongues pressing against each other. I could feel his hand cupping my breast through my sweater and my one thought was to feel that same hand underneath the sweater.

I slipped out of my shoes; the kitchen floor was cold beneath my stockinged feet. ‘Come into the living room,’ I murmured. ‘This is fun, but I don’t want to catch hypothermia as a result’

We stumbled into the living room. ‘Let’s get some of this nonsense off,’ Geoff muttered. He nuzzled my neck gently as he pulled at my sweater. I could feel his slowly-growing erection pressing against me.

Encouraged, I tugged off his shirt and began unbuckling his belt. He slid his lips gently down to the soft flesh at the top of my breast and his tongue flickered teasingly over my nipple. I moaned gently, feeling an insistent throbbing between my legs and needing his touch to ease the itch.

Our hands were roaming over each other’s bodies, greedily exploring every inch of flesh as it was revealed, listening for the sounds that would tell us we had found a sensitive and pleasurable spot.

I pulled down Geoff’s briefs to reveal his swelling cock. I glanced at it quickly, then looked away, half-embarrassed by the sight of this beautiful organ, bluish-purple against the sandy hair on his belly.

He sank to his knees, teasing my body with gentle nips and tugs. One finger hovered for a moment, achingly close to my hairy mound, then slipped ever so gently between my lips. His touch was like a soothing balm to my aching clitoris and I sighed, my eyes half-closed with pleasure.

Sensing my obvious enjoyment, Geoff replaced his fingers with his lips. The sensation of his tongue moving with long-practised ease coupled with hot breath at the entrance to my vagina was ecstatic. I twined my fingers in his hair, ground my hips against his face, wanting to impale myself on that tongue and die. My breath caught in my throat and my voice was thick; the words “Yes” and “Geoff” had become interchangeable.

Too soon, it seemed, the sensation became almost unbearably painful, before all sensation seemed suspended for a moment, then gave way to the warm pleasure of orgasm.

Weak at the knees, I clutched at Geoff’s head and hugged him to me, then ran one hand down to meet his cock, hard under its film of slippery juice. Suddenly, I wanted more than anything to repay his compliment and kiss his cock in love and gratitude. Tentative at first, my tongue grew more confident as I gently circled the tip, so reminiscent of a bruised mushroom. I chased the drips of salty liquid, explored under the rim and ran my tongue down the length of it, drawing one finger across his balls with a feather-light touch that made him moan. There was a look of childish wonderment on his face.

‘Oh God, Kim, you’re beautiful,’ he breathed. ‘Kiss me, honey.’

Reluctantly, I broke off from my task and our mouths met, each tasting the salt-sweet flavour of the other. I could feel his erection nosing hopefully at my entrance/

‘Yes?’ he asked softly.

‘Oh, yes!’ He gently parted the ragged flower of my lips and entered me with infinitesimal slowness, as if mindful of my relative inexperience. His movements, careful at first, gradually built to a peak of thrusting as my hips rose to meet his. My hands raked his back as I cried out with the beginnings of my orgasm; lost in my own sensations, I was still aware of Geoff’s own spasms and the trickle of lukewarm liquid down my thighs.

Seconds later, I was aware of other sounds: a key turning in the lock and voices raised in mid-argument dying away as Laura and Marcus were confronted by the sight of two bodies on the carpet, tangled together in the aftermath of orgasm.

I’m putting a card in the newsagent’s window for a new flatmate this afternoon…

 

Lipstick Lovers Wins Award!

Just had the great news that Lipstick Lovers won the Best Anthology award at the National Leather Awards. Congratulations to all the writers whose excellent stories helped to make the book a winner – Kathleen Tudor, Alice Candy, Harper Bliss, Lynn Lake, Jayne Wheatley, Alex Jordaine, Kate Dominic, Emma Lydia Bates, Lucy Felthouse, Angel Propps, Medea Mor, Shea Lancaster, Rachel Charman, Encarnita Round, Jean-Philippe Aubourg, Giselle Renarde, Anna Sansom, Valerie Alexander and Elise Hepner – and to the winners of the various other categories of these prestigious awards.