19 February 2019

Historical Transgender Romance from Katherine Wyvern

Hello Katherine!  Thank you so much for visiting Written Butterfly with me today!  It’s such a pleasure to chat with you.  So tell me…

Q) How did you dream up the dynamics of your characters?

I literally dreamed it. The first spark for the story was a dream I had one night, of a Victorian painter who was in love with his model, who also happened to be a prostitute (I do have weird dreams, I know). Of course the story grew in the telling, and borrowed some things from my own real life, and became a lot more complex, but the core remained almost unchanged.

Q) Is this book part of a series?  If so, can you tell us about it?

Not exactly a series, but it is part of what I call a “loosely interconnected trilogy”. This is three books (duh! Wyvern can count to three!) all featuring transgender characters, more exactly MtoF crossdressers. The first two books (Woman as a Foreign Language and Spice &Vanilla) are contemporary, and have two characters in common, although they can perfectly be read as stand alones. The connection to the third book is more tenuous… and it’s a bit of a game I play with the readers, to find those thin threads, so I will say no more. 😊

Q) Can you give a fun or interesting fact about your book?

When I was writing this story I began making some more detailed research about the life of one of my all-time favorite painters, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, and was blown over to find some really strange coincidences between things from his real life, and things I had already written in my story, culminating with a sentence we both used to describe our muse’s absence… it was wonderful, and a little bit creepy.

Q) What do you think is your strongest asset as a writer? …what is your weakest factor as a writer?

My strongest asset? Possibly my voice, which is very lyrical in parts, and very… well, very “voicey”. It’s the thing people immediately remark upon. My weakest factor? My voice, again. It’s a love or hate thing. Some readers find it vivid and engulfing and  are enchanted with it. Others find it antiquated and distracting. You can’t please everybody.

Also, I write densely descriptive, highly emotional stories, and that too tends to polarize the readers.

Q) Do you try more to be original or to deliver to readers what they want?

I really have no clue what readers want, and most popular Romance trends do not interest me much, so I am not much of a people-pleaser in that sense. But I don’t actively strike for originality either. I write stories and characters that are attractive to me, and since I am a bit of an oddball, I guess they ultimately come across as original. But I am happy to weave old tropes in my stories to if they are relevant to the plot or the characters. Good stories always bear retelling, as long as the telling is fresh, and brings something new to the theme.

Q) Do you plan all your characters out before you start a story or do they develop as you write?

I am really crap at planning anything, really, especially where writing is concerned. When I began writing Muse (which took a very long time to finish) I didn’t even know if Nathaniel, the main character, was male or female. Although the original concept was that of a male painter and a female muse, once the transgender angle came in I seriously considered making Nathaniel a woman. It would have made for a very interesting story, but very different of course. Imagine a female artist painting a male model, before the days of feminist emancipation, and at the same time a partnership that could have been seen as a lesbian relationship… unless this female artist was also a crossdresser, a FtoM crossdresser... It was quite a while before Nathaniel crystalized in his final form.

There were so many possibilities for bending gender roles and expectations, and setting up really unusual plot-twists . It was really hard to settle on one set of identities.

It might be worth rewriting the whole thing just to see the fireworks!

Q) What are your upcoming projects?

I am a little burnt-out to be honest, right now, but I hope to get to work on a very thrilling sci/fi story I conceived last year (and wrote a few pages of). It was supposed to be a cooperation with my husband, but he chickened out and I am on my own now. It is a time-traveling story with a slightly heart-breaking twist on the concept of fated mate. If the muse helps I’ll try to get to work on it in the next few weeks.

Thank you so much for hosting me!!

~Editor's Pick~
"This is one of the most beautiful romances I've ever read."

London, 1884

An artist lives to create. When Nathaniel’s urge to paint died, so did his will to live.

Until the night he meets Gabrielle.

Gabrielle may be just a poor prostitute, but she has the beauty of a Pre-Raphaelite stunner and the otherworldly aura of a fallen angel. She also has a secret. Gabrielle is Gabriel, and when Gabriel’s dark past comes knocking and Gabrielle must abandon her new career as an artist’s model, Nathaniel’s whole world comes crashing down again.

Better to die than living without her love, and the breathtaking creative drive she brought him. But it’s dead easy to die for a woman. Any fool can die for love. To live for it, that takes altogether more courage, doggedness, and imagination.

Be Warned: transgender romance, queer romance, cross-dressing, m/m sex, anal sex, rape


I am not sure how to touch Nathaniel. I want him to kiss me again, I want him to hold me, I want him to look at me that way he does in his studio, when he watches every line of my body and sees a woman. And at the same time, I wish he would see me for what I am, all that I am, once and for all, so I don’t have to hide anymore.

So I shed my jacket, and the blouse underneath. I shiver a little in the cold when my arms are bared, and he runs his warm palms on my goosebumps, soothing them.

Then I stand to unbutton my skirts and petticoat, and untie my bustle, and I let it all swish down around my knees, and I stand here naked, in my small chemise, and stockings and corset, and my boots.

I am still silk-skinned and woman shaped.

Except for that one thing.

I steal a glance at his face—I can hardly bear to look at his eyes, standing here so naked—thinking he will wince, or frown. Or scream, what do you know. You can never tell, with a sensitive artistic temperament.

But he does none of these things.

Instead he goes to his knees on the floor, like a man about to propose in some play, and with a sort of mute reverence he strokes my thighs and my buttocks, and the back of my knees, through the stockings. When he lays a kiss and then his forehead on the hard of my hip, where the bone pokes sharply under my skin, I put my hands on his crazy hair, and hold him there, and with the barest, lightest touch of his fingertips he caresses the front of my corset, on my belly, and then down, down.

And to my acute embarrassment, the damn thing shivers to his touch, stiffening, rising.

Well. He has certainly seen me, now. He really has.

He is not screaming.

I pull him to his feet and I step out of my puddled skirts, and gently I undress him. Jacket and shirt and trousers and drawers, socks, everything.

He is as tall as I am, which I had never noticed, because he always stands with his head bent and his shoulders slumped. He’s not muscular, but there is no fat on him either. He has well-built bones under his lumpy clothes—he badly needs a good tailor—and he would be rather handsome if he held himself straight, with his chin up, and didn’t look so much at odds with himself. He’s pale, but not as pale as I am, and there is just the merest spray of hair on his chest.

I caress his skin all over as I undress him, and he looks transfixed, as if it had never occurred to him that it takes two to dance this dance. Perhaps he thought I’d make him spend the night on his knees adoring me.

The heat of his skin is like a deep current, and it draws me to him.

We stand here mute, the only sounds the drumming of the rain and the swish of falling clothes, and gently kissing lips.

When I push him to lie on the bed, I have a moment of dread that he might want to do that to me. I cannot have it. I will not be taken that way ever again.

I’ll make my living giving blowjobs for the rest of my days, I guess.

But I am not afraid of him. I do not believe he’d be capable of hurting a fly, let alone me.

“So, do you fancy that blowjob, finally?” I whisper in his ear, smiling, but he holds me close, too close for me to slide down along his body.

“I love you,” he whispers, his lips on my ear, so that words are made into a caress, “I love you, I love you.”

“Hush,” I whisper back, bearing down on him, grinding my cock on his. “Don’t say such things. It cannot be. It can’t.”

“This night, this once, please, let me say it. I love you, I love you, I love you.” His body rises to meet mine, and I feel those tears spilling now, with joy, and grief, and pity. Pity for him, for me, for both of us, lost in this narrow garret under the drumming rain, orphans in this storm, desperately naked in this terrible iron city.

“Only this once, then,” I whisper. “Tomorrow, you must forget.”

And before he can answer or kiss me again, I slip out of his arms, and down, along his chest and belly, so he cannot see me cry.

I have pleasured so many men this way, but never one I loved, and maybe it’s the same thing, and yet it’s something altogether different. He’s all silk and warmth and heaving life and fire pulsing, and his flesh matters to mine, so that my whole body loves his.

“You—don’t—have—to do this,” he whispers at first, but then he surrenders finally, and lets the pleasure take him.

I told him, the first time we met, that I’d do him for free. Who would have guessed, then, that I would end up doing him for love?

And I don’t know if he’s a virgin—but he is indeed quick. His cock grows even tauter on my tongue, and he breathes in short, hard gasps a few times. When his body arches and heaves and his hand fumbles at my cheek, I hold him, and hold him, and hold him… He comes with a broken moan, hotly. I swallow it all.

On the street I never do. But here, now, with him, I could not bring myself to spit.

Find A Muse to Live For at Evernight:


I have entered that age when looking at beautiful male models in their prime makes me a cougar, ahem.

Almost all my heroines are short: that’s because I look at the world from hobbit level. Being so small I am three times more concentrated (read: obsessive) than anybody I know. I am exhaustingly creative in writing, arts, crafts... Sometimes my brain gets friction burns from hurtling at such speed from one universe to the next.

I love animals, plants, and occasionally even people.

Like the Highlander I come from a lot of different places. I was born in Italy but lived here and there and consider myself simply and deeply European. I love Europe passionately, its antiquity, its diversity, its quirkiness. All my books are set in Europe, or alternate versions of it.

I have been writing since I can remember.


Katherine’s Blog:

Katherine’s Website:


Facebook Author/artist Group:


Or follow her on Instagram @katherinewyvern

18 February 2019

Spotlight on Candace Robinson's "Clouded by Envy"

Hi Candace! Thank you so much for visiting Written Butterfly! So tell me...

Q) How did you dream up the dynamics of your characters?

I knew I always wanted to do twins with the Yin Yang factor. Basically light to the dark, and although one is envious of his sister, he still loves her in his own way.

Q) Is this book part of a series?  If so, can you tell us about it?

It’s part of a series but each book is a stand alone! The companion book will take place years down the line with a new cast of characters! I’m so excited for both of them!

Q) Can you give a fun or interesting fact about your book?

The MCs from Clouded by Envy are fairy-like creatures known as bats but not like our bats! They have bat wings and fangs and love peaches!

Q) What do you think is your strongest asset as a writer? …what is your weakest factor as a writer?

My strongest asset is coming up with unique voices for characters. The hardest is world building! I have to think a lot on that one!

Q) Do you try more to be original or to deliver to readers what they want?

For me, originality is key, even if I’m doing a retelling! And hopefully the readers enjoy that journey!

Q) Do you plan all your characters out before you start a story or do they develop as you write?

I have an idea of their personalities but doesn’t completely come out until I start writing it!

Q) Do you want each book to stand on its own, or are you trying to build a body of work with connections between each book?

I would like to have each one stand on its own, like be memorable a bit for the readers!

Q) What are your upcoming projects? 

I have a companion to Clouded by Envy titled, Veiled by Desire, which comes out in the fall! Then I’m also working on some secret projects!


Brenik has always been envious of his twin sister, Bray. Growing up as fairy-like creatures, known as bats, everything came easier to Bray. While Brenik spent his time in her shadows, never feeling he was enough. After escaping their world of Laith, and living on Earth for ten years, Brenik attempts to strike a deal with the Stone of Desire to become human. Though true humanity is not an option, he will accept the curse that will alter him to get as close as he can.

Living in a tree trunk for the past year hasn’t been easy for Bray, more so after her brother disappears again. When a human boy and his brother, Wes, find her, a new friendship is struck. Through Wes, Bray learns there can be more to life than waiting within a tree. But worrying over where Brenik has vanished to always remains in the back of her mind.

When Bray reunites with Brenik, she realizes she must help him break the curse after she discovers the need for blood is beginning to overpower him. The curse not only damages those who get close to Brenik, but it could also destroy whatever is blooming between Bray and Wes. 


Author Bio 

Candace Robinson spends her days consumed by words. When she’s not writing stories, she maintains a book review blog. Her life consists of avoiding migraines, admiring Bonsai trees, and living with her husband and daughter in Texas—where it can be forty degrees one day and eighty the next.
Social Media

Also from Candace…

16 February 2019

Welcome Sonia Stanizzo!

Hello Sonia!  Thank you so much for visiting Written Butterfly with me today!  It’s such a pleasure to chat with you.  So tell me…

Q) Is this book part of a series?  If so, can you tell us about it?

Chasing Trouble can be read as a standalone but it’s book two of my Trouble series.

Q) Do you try more to be original or to deliver to readers what they want?

I don’t write to what readers want. I write what I would want to read. Things change so much and so fast, I think it would be hard to keep up with the current trend.

Q) Do you plan all your characters out before you start a story or do they develop as you write?

I have a general idea of what my characters are like, but they definitely develop as I write.  Sometimes so much so, I have to go back and change stuff I’ve written so it flows with the rest of the story I’ve created.

Q) What are your upcoming projects?

I’m editing book three in my Trouble series, working title, Trouble in Disguise.

Love is worth the chase, even if it means trouble.

When Ava Cardona returns home after being away for ten years, she plans to visit with her younger sister then get out of town fast. There are too many painful memories she’d rather not relive. But when a storm hits and she’s stranded on the side of the road, she has no choice but to accept help from the man who hurt her the most—Nick Williams.

Nick isn’t happy to see Ava either. She had been the love of his life, and she ran away without any explanation. Now he’s stuck with her on his family’s farm, and old feelings are racing to the surface. While the weather rages outside, the air is just as turbulent inside. But even though they both want to keep as far away from each other as possible, old attractions keep pulling them closer.

As the days pass, their icy dispositions begin to melt, and once they begin talking, they finally start to let go of past hurts. A relationship could even be in their future…or at the very least, a friendship with benefits.

But when Ava learns of a family secret that devastates her, and she discovers that Nick has known about it for years, she does what she does best…runs. Will Nick let Ava run from him again, or will he be strong enough to chase her and fight for her love?

“I’ve never seen a car repaired by poking.”
Ava whirled around and threw daggers with her gaze. Turning back to the engine, this time she rattled some hoses.

Nick shook his head.

Opening the Mercedes’s door, he slid onto the soft leather seats. She stomped over to him.
“What the hell are you doing in my car?” She pushed a lank, wet strand of hair away from her face, streaking a smudge of grease across her cheek. “Oh my God! Water is all over the controls on the door!” She shrieked.
“If you keep standing there blocking me from closing it, it will only get wetter.”

She quickly slammed the door. There was no mistaking the word bastard on her lips. Why was he helping her again?
He flicked the ignition a couple of times, and it made a cranking sound. It didn’t sound like a flat battery. Dammit, why couldn’t it be as simple as the battery? It needed to go to the workshop.

He got out of her car and threw her the keys.
“Well?” she said shivering as the rain pelted them. “What’s wrong with my car?”

His gaze dropped to the raised peaks of her nipples. He pinched the bridge of his nose and trudged through the mud to his truck and away from the headlight show. “I think it’s either the fuel pump or an electrical problem.”

Her voice rose. “You’re going to fix it, right?”
“I can’t on the side of the road.”

“You’re not going to just leave it here?”
“Yep, there’s no one who can tow it tonight.” He opened the truck door and paused, the words about to be spoken tasted like ash on his tongue. “Want a lift?”

Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times before she shut it in a firm line.
“Get in…or don’t. I really don’t care. I’m getting in, my balls have just about disappeared.”

She straightened her shoulders, stuck her nose up in the air, and didn’t budge. 

“Suit yourself. Good luck getting a ride tonight.” He jumped in his ute, turned the ignition, and cranked on the heater.
A crack of lightning lit up the sky, and Ava scrambled into his truck just as the thunder boomed and rattled the windows. Nick didn’t bother hiding his smirk. She was still scared of thunderstorms. He pulled back onto the road and navigated his way through the dark, stormy night.

After a moment, she said through gritted teeth, “I guess you’re going to gloat.”
“No,” he replied.

She squeezed water from her hair. “I don’t believe you. I bet you’re dying to rub it in my face that I needed help and you came to my rescue.”
“I would’ve stopped for an injured animal. Don’t think you’re anything special.”

She huffed.
Another lightning strike illuminated the sky, and she covered her ears, preparing for the thunder soon to follow. When it did, she sprung so high she almost bumped her head on the roof of the truck.

“Still scared of a little storm? We’re not going parking like we used to, so I can distract you.”
She whipped her head around and stared wide-eyed at him.

Crap, why did he have to say that? Shifting in his seat, he scrubbed a hand over his face. To change the subject, and because her shivering vibrated against the seat, he said, “There should be a jumper behind you.”
She twisted around to reach behind the seat, and her breast brushed up against his arm. He ignored the rush of heat heading south.

“Where am I taking you?”
“I have a room booked at a bed-and-breakfast. It’s called Greenhill House.” Then she glanced around the cabin of the truck and laughed with disbelief. “Is this the same truck you drove years ago?”

Nick drew in a deep breath, “Yes.”
She ran a hand over the cracked vinyl seat. “It’s not very comfortable.”

“You never complained. You used to beg me to take you parking in it so we could fu—”
“I did not!” she interrupted.

“Sorry it’s not as luxurious as your Merc.” Leaning forward, he squinted through the rain and pulled to a stop. “Shit…”
Ava followed his gaze. “What?”

“The road into town is flooded. We can’t cross.”
“Isn’t this a four-wheel drive?” she asked.

“Then what’s the problem?”

He gave a heavy sigh. “It’s too deep. We could get washed away.” Nick slammed his fist against the steering wheel. How did his day turn to shit? “You have two choices. I take you back to your car and hope it’s comfortable for you to sleep in or…” The next words clogged in his throat.
Ava sounded reluctant to ask, “Or what?”

He cleared the lump. “You stay the night at my place.”

Purchase Links

Barnes & Noble:  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/chasing-trouble-sonia-stanizzo/1129081691?ean=2940162142416
Bookstrand:  https://www.bookstrand.com/chasing-trouble
Newsletter subscribe: http://eepurl.com/cUWmv5

Sonia Stanizzo is a contemporary romance writer who lives in the beautiful South Coast of New South Wales with her childhood sweetheart/husband and their three children. When she’s not dreaming up stories about couples and their road to finding love, sometimes bumpy but always a lot of fun, she can be found taking pole dancing lessons (purely for the fun and exercise), reading, and writing.

15 February 2019

Spotlight on Dania Voss's The Warrior's Whisper!


He returned home from battle a changed man. Her love can make him whole again.

To the outside world, Heath appears healed and integrated back into civilian life just fine after being injured in Afghanistan. But even though the battles are over, the scars, guilt, demons, and insecurities remain.

Leah has loved Heath all her life. He’s known her since the day she was born, seeing as he’s ten years older and her brother Jake’s best friend. Although he’s always regarded her as “family”, she believes they are meant to be together.

Heath has always considered Leah off limits, a forbidden temptation he shouldn’t want and can never have. But when he sees her at Jake’s wedding ceremony, he’s so overwhelmed he makes a move against his better judgment. 

Still, his insecurities ultimately get the best of him. He believes she deserves more than a battle-weary Marine who suffers from combat nightmares. 

Leah has a secret that will change their lives forever, but can Heath conquer his demons so they can make a way forward together—or will he abandon her when she needs him the most?


Heath slid next to her as she admired the small bridal toss bouquet she’d caught. He took it and placed it beside her larger bridesmaid bouquet and small evening bag on the carpeted limousine floor. 
He couldn’t wait. He needed a taste of her. Now.

She squeaked when he lifted her off the seat and settled her on his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he claimed her lips like a starving man. Which he was. He should have fucked her in the small banquet room after they’d finished talking. She eagerly opened her mouth, their tongues colliding in a ferocious dance.

He was so hard it hurt. He was certain she could feel his throbbing dick against her leg. He couldn’t wait much longer to sink inside her warm, waiting pussy.

Much to his disappointment, she broke their kiss, leaving them both panting. Shit. No one else had ever made him as hot or as hard as Leah did. He was so screwed.

Moving quickly before he could stop her, Leah hopped off his lap and positioned herself on the floor between his legs. The sexy gleam in her eyes had his painfully hard cock pulsing in anticipation.

She ran her hands unhurriedly up and down his thighs, the heat of her hands burning a trail. Heath stopped her when she reached for his zipper. “What do you think you’re doing, little girl?” He had a good idea, but wondered if she could verbalize it.

His heart raced in his chest when she smiled seductively at him. “What do you think? I’m going to take care of this big, hard dick for you.”

Damn. It was official. He was screwed. His little Leah was into dirty talk? His mind raced with all the other dirty, filthy things he’d introduce her to if they went past the weekend. Don’t get ahead of yourself, pal. One step at a time.

Acting more relaxed than he felt, he played along. He made himself comfortable in the limo seat and spread his legs a little further apart for her. He unbuttoned his pants and slowly unzipped them. She watched him with such a lust he considered laying her flat on the limousine floor and fucking her hard before they reached the Fairchild Hotel.

“So, you think you can wrap those luscious lips around my big fat cock, little girl?” Heath wasn’t small. He wanted to see how much of him she could handle.

Even in the dim interior of the car, he could see her dilated pupils. His Leah wanted to suck his dick. He would let her for a little bit. The first time he came inside her would be in her tight, little pussy, not her mouth.

She wasted no time and pulled on his boxer briefs, freeing his cock. The warmth of her delicate hand wrapped around his length nearly set him off. Where was his legendary control?

“Let’s find out,” she purred.

She licked the pre-cum from the tip of his dick, and he almost lost it. How did she do this to him? “Go on, suck me.”

He held on to Leah’s head, his fingers tangled in her thick, silky locks. She swallowed his cock as far as she could. The feel of her hot mouth engulfing his length was so fucking incredible he groaned and pushed himself deeper. To his surprise, she deep-throated him completely and hummed. The vibration practically had him coming right then and there.

Leah sucked him with enthusiasm, finding the perfect rhythm. He gripped her hair tighter, eliciting a groan from her. She liked a little pain? He could definitely work with that.

The base of his spine tingled. He needed to stop her, but her mouth felt too fucking good.

“Mr. Jackson, we’re near the Fairchild,” the chauffeur’s voice announced through the limo’s speakers.

Leah pulled off his throbbing dick with a pop, and he immediately missed her warm mouth. Shit, he was done for. He needed to get inside of her. Now.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to finish. I wanted to take care of you.” She frowned, collected her bouquets, evening bag and sat down beside him, snuggling close.

“It’s all right. I wanted to come buried deep inside you anyway,” Heath said as he tucked himself back inside his pants and zipped up. He grabbed the top hat that had fallen off while Leah was blowing him and put it back on.

The moment the limousine came to a complete stop at the Fairchild Hotel, he was out the door extending a hand to her. She emerged with her bouquets and evening bag in tow. Taking her bag in one hand, and then grasping her now free hand in the other, he escorted her past the smiling chauffer and into the hotel lobby.

“Have a good evening, Mr. Jackson,” the chauffer called out.

“I intend to.”

Purchase Links
Evernight:     https://bit.ly/2xfMTBm

Dania Voss Bio

Born in Rome, Italy and settled in the Chicagoland area, Dania Voss became a romance junkie in her teens. After decades of voracious reading, she published her first romance novel On the Ropes, the prequel in her Windy City Nights series in March 2018. It was nominated as best Contemporary Romance in the 2018 Evernight Publishing Reader's Choice Awards.

The Windy City Nights series takes place in and around Chicago which means - baseball, men in uniform, sexy Italians and steamy nights...She writes contemporary, steamy romance but at their core, her stories are about love, commitment, family, and friendship. 

She's been seen on affiliates of NBC, ABC, CBS and FOX. She's been featured in the Chicago Tribune and Artist First Radio Network.

Dania loves to hear from readers. 

Keep up with her at: www.DaniaVoss.com

Visit her blog at: www.DaniaVoss.com/blog

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