Sneak Peek: Mr December

Christmas is drawing ever closer, but what if December was your least favourite time of the year? That’s how Nicki, the heroine of my new seasonal novella, Mr December, feels. Memories of a bad break-up, and an assignment to photograph arrogant but very sexy model Bryce in a remote house on the Cornish coast, do nothing to lift her spirits. But when circumstances conspire to leave the two of them stranded over the holidays, will they be able to deny the attraction they feel for each other?

Here’s an extract:

mrdecember_800Bryce lay on his front on the bed I’d set up in my studio, cupping the point of his chin in one hand. With the other hand, he held a sprig of mistletoe over his head. He’d parted his lips slightly, as if inviting a kiss. The expression in his eyes clearly said ‘come and get me’.

I clicked away with my camera, concentrating only on getting the perfect shot. It wasn’t easy, not when the tension between Bryce and me had been building since the moment he’d walked into the studio. Electricity seemed to crackle in the air, hard to ignore, like lightning on a fine summer’s day.

“Hey, Nicki, put that thing down and come over here,” Bryce drawled. He waved the mistletoe in a clear effort to distract me from my task.

I should tell him to cut it out. We had work to do. But this was the last scenario on my list for the afternoon, and in truth I already had more than enough pictures to send to the photo agency. I had Bryce Anderson naked in front of me, giving me an obvious come-on. Weaker women would have already succumbed to his advances.

I set the camera down, then approached the bed.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” Bryce smiled. “You know what they say about all work and no play…”

He took my fingers in his free hand. Lust rippled through me at the contact. Try as I might, I couldn’t remain immune to his charms.

Bryce gazed at me, his brown eyes dark with desire. Our lips were inches apart. We hovered on the verge of a kiss, and still I held back from committing fully to the moment. He wasn’t so bashful. He pressed his mouth to mine, using his tongue to feather my lips open.

As the kiss grew more intense, Bryce tossed the mistletoe aside. I breathed in the scent of him, expensive cologne mixed with clean male sweat. My eyes were screwed shut and I clung tight around Bryce’s neck, not sure what would happen if I let go.

If you want to find out what happens next, Mr December is available from December 8th from Totally Bound.


Book Review: Skin Effect by M. Christian

skin effectA woman with the ability to perfect memories – or erase them from the mind forever – offers help to people who can’t escape their past. A man tries to avenge his family’s death, and finds only a loving welcome from his bitterest enemy. And a number of friends enjoy a group sex experience in which their minds as well as their bodies become fused…

In his second collection of high-concept science fiction and fantasy erotica, Skin Effect, M. Christian takes aspects of current technology – spectacles that enable the wearer to instantly connect to a world of data, smart fabrics, video blogging, the lurking spectre of cybercrime – and takes it to its logical extension. The characters in these stories have access to all manner of cutting edge devices, enabling them to move through time or transition their bodies, and Christian uses this overarching them to explore how this might affect love and sex. If you could routinely change from male to female, wear clothing that would adapt to suit your mood and aid seduction, or relive in perfect detail time spent with a lost lover, however painful it might prove, would you do it? And if so, would you be prepared for any unexpected consequences?

Skin Effect isn’t an easy read. The stories are written in a style that requires close attention to extract the nuances of the text, and you may not grasp all the implications of a scenario on first reading. But as you’d expect from an M. Christian anthology, they drip with eroticism and the many and varied sexual couplings are lusciously described. If you’re looking for thought-provoking erotica that’s both cerebral and sensual, this is the collection for you.

Skin Effect is published by Sizzler Editions and available from Amazon US and Amazon UK.

Cover Reveal: Pride Under Fire

A hunky firefighter who’s also a lion shifter. A hard-working detective with a disastrous love life. A small mountain town plagued by a series of life-threatening arson attacks. All those ingredients come together in Pride Under Fire, Book Five in the Lionhearts series, and here’s the fabulous cover for the book.


This one is seriously hot!

RIP Cynthia Payne

I’m sad to hear of the death of Cynthia Payne at the age of 82. Cynthia was the brothel madam (if brothel’s entirely the right word for the services she and her girls provided) who became famous for issuing Luncheon Vouchers to her clients, so that they wouldn’t technically be handing over money for sex. Now isn’t really the time or place to get into the intricacies of the prostitution laws in the UK, but let’s just say that how Cynthia ran her business was safer than standing on a street corner touting for business, and enabled her to entertain a variety of men whose wives mostly couldn’t, or wouldn’t, cater to their kinkier tastes. And no one got hurt in the process – unless they specifically asked for it.

cynthia payneCynthia was the first person I interviewed for Forum, when I was fresh out of journalism classes and she was promoting her book Entertaining at Home – a humorous guide to throwing a sex party, and quality toilet reading from what I remember. We did the interview in the offices of Penguin Books, which were in Kensington at the time, and even though I wasn’t the first (or last) person she spoke to that day, she couldn’t have been warmer, funnier or an easier interview. Here’s a rough transcript of how it went:

Me: Cynthia, how are you?

Cynthia: (talks for twenty minutes)

Me: That’s great. Tell me about the book?

Cynthia: (talks for twenty minutes)

Me: And finally, is there anything else you’d like to tell our readers?

Cynthia: (talks for twenty minutes)

Me: Thank you very much.

I don’t remember all the anecdotes, but she did tell me about one client who, for reasons lost in the mists of time, got off on being pelted with mud. One day, she was running late and didn’t have time to collect the mud from the garden, so she mixed the contents of the Hoover bag with water and he had that thrown at him instead…

If you haven’t seen them, I recommend the two films inspired by Cynthia’s life – Wish You Were Here, which is based on her teenage years and still makes me wonder whatever happened to Emily Lloyd’s career, and the magnificent Personal Services, which covers her time as a madam and features a brilliant performance from Julie Walters as ‘Christine Painter’ and one of the greatest transgender characters on film, Dolly the maid (Danny Schiller).

There will never be anyone else like Cynthia – a true English eccentric who was prepared to go to prison for doing her job, and the woman who enabled people everywhere to go into the toilets at weddings and exclaim in a disbelieving voice, ‘Dolly… you’ve got a willy!’ She will be missed.


Hallowe’en May Be Over…

…but it’s not too late to enjoy a deliciously wicked read courtesy of Lisabet Sarai’s new BDSM menage tale, Coming In Costume.

Here’s the blurb for the story:

ComingInCostume600When her dominant husband Greg proposes that they attend a company Halloween gala, Isabella is too excited to be suspicious. Unlike her introverted master, she adores parties and dressing up. Only after they arrive does Bella learn her Dom has planned a kinky, semi-public scene involving both pain and pleasure―a Halloween masque that includes a starring role for Greg’s best friend James.

And here’s a very naughty extract to get you in the mood:

He circled behind me once more to peel off my panties. The soaked cotton clung to my skin. He dragged them down to my ankles and tossed them away.

“Tsk, tsk. It appears that punishment turns you on. Shameful!” Despite his words, he sounded more amused than annoyed. Without prelude, he thrust several fingers deep into my drenched channel. I clamped down reflexively, struggling against the rising tide of pleasure that obliterated every shred of pain.

Greg snatched his hand from my depths, leaving me shuddering with want.

“Oh, sir…”

“I should give you additional strokes for that. But that would only arouse you more, wouldn’t it? We’ll have to see if you find a bare-bottomed thrashing equally exciting, you nasty girl.”

The pointer swished through the air. A fireball of pain exploded as it landed on my already tenderized flesh. My howl of agony echoed through the empty museum halls.


“Oh, no, no…! Please, no more, I can’t…” Tears streamed down my cheeks. The latest stripe burned like a brand, the hurt pulsing hotter each instant, even though he didn’t hit me again. Then Greg’s hand cupped my butt cheek. The pain didn’t stop, but his touch transformed the raw feeling into something I wanted. His voice was barely audible above my sniffling.

“You know you can use your safe word, Bella.”

“No—no, sir, I don’t want—don’t want to disappoint you…”

“You could never disappoint me, love.”  He let the pointer rest for a moment across my ass cheeks, then traced a line down the inside of my thigh with the tip.

I spasmed as he brought it closer to my slick, exposed pussy, though, to my mingled relief and regret, he refrained from touching my most sensitive spots. How could I be so aroused when I hurt so much?

Coming In Costume is available from Amazon US, Amazon UK and Smashwords. Go on, let it put the willies up you…

I’m Going On A Blog Tour

From tomorrow, catch me on tour, talking about my Tirgearr hot romance novella, One Night In Brussels. I’ll also have a prize giveaway, so don’t forget to enter that – details will be available on each of the tour stops.

Here’s where you’ll be able to find me:

2nd November –

3rd November –

4th November –

5th November –

6th November –


Summoning Milo

It’s Halloween, and here’s a spooky short story for all those of you who love things that go bump in the night…

Two minutes to midnight. The lights are extinguished, a candle gutters on the table before me. I’ve surrounded myself with all I have left of him. A detective novel I borrowed from the teetering pile in his bedroom and never had the chance to return. A string of friendship beads he tied around my wrist the summer before we went away to college. A photo, creased and dog-eared from being carried in my wallet. His parents took it on some family vacation, right after he graduated. He’s in board shorts, his chest bare, his hair sun-bleached. He looks so ridiculously handsome, laughing and carefree. Unaware that he only had another three months to live.

I wish I had more, but the fire claimed almost all our possessions, as well as his life. If I hadn’t been on shift that evening, one year ago to the day, I’d be dead, too. The guilt and pain I carry haven’t lessened. I know there’s nothing I could have done to save him, but I let the sun go down on my anger and I need to put this right. To say the words I left unspoken when I stormed out of the apartment, late for work and angry at him for not hanging the laundry out to dry.

The clock chimes. It’s time. I speak the words, culled from the pages of a book so old it threatened to crumble to dust when I opened it. They’re hard to pronounce, so many guttural syllables to wrap my tongue around, but I do my best. I have to get this right, for the sake of my sanity.

For the longest time, it seems nothing’s going to happen. Foolish of me to believe it might, really. Then the air shimmers, as if I’m looking through a smoky haze. Peering through it, I see the outline of a figure. It grows more solid, till I’m looking at a full-grown man.

“Milo?” My voice cracks around his name.

“Jen.” He comes a step closer. I fight the urge to scream. His skin is blistered and burned; most of his hair is gone. The pajama pants he wears are charred shreds of fabric. I should be terrified, but I’m not. He’s still my gorgeous Milo, for all that. “It’s so good to see you. But I don’t have long…”

“Oh, Milo. The spell worked. It’s really you.” Tears course down my cheek and I swipe them away, determined not to let him see me so upset.

“Hey, babe. Don’t cry.” When he puts his arms out, I stumble into them. I’m almost afraid to touch his ruined body, but he smiles. “It’s okay. You’re not going to hurt me. Nothing can any more.”

There’s so much I want to ask him, but the words won’t come. Glancing up, I see his blue eyes shining, the depth of emotion obvious. When he bends his head and presses his lips to mine, I don’t resist. Returning the kiss with all the passion I possess, I let him guide me to the floor.

He kisses my cheeks, my eyelids, the tip of my nose. I run my hands down his back, all the way to the cheeks of his ass. Our bodies grind together. His erection is a thick bar, trapped against my belly. Without thinking, I reach to hold it, surprised to feel it warm and pulsing in my grasp.

“I want you,” he murmurs.

“Me, too. I’ve never stopped wanting you.”

Milo tears open my shirt, sending the buttons flying. He takes my nipple between his rough lips, sucking hard. Desire courses through me, fierce and urgent. I tug down my underwear, desperate to feel him inside me one last time.

He slides home in one long thrust. I’d almost forgotten how well he fits, like he was made for me. We move together, quickly finding a rhythm that suits us both. Milo’s eyes never leave mine as our pleasure mounts in unison.

My pussy convulses around him in the moment before he comes deep within me. I cling on tight to him, riding the waves.

“Milo, I’m so sorry for fighting with you about nothing,” I whisper, when I can find my voice again. “I love you. I always will.”

“And I…”

He’s fading before my eyes. The candle flame sputters and dies. All that remains is an acrid smell of smoke and his voice, lingering in the air like the Cheshire Cat’s grin.

“…love you too.”