28 May 2018

Ray Sostre's NEW RELEASE!


A Thrill Seeking Relationship: Relationship Therapy by Ray L Sostre

Book 3 in the Thrill Seeking Relationship Series



Melissa Johanssen was having marriage troubles, but the counseling she and her husband sought was far from conventional; this marriage counseling was more hands on.

Will this therapy save their marriage?


US: https://amzn.to/2GQtKZv
UK: https://amzn.to/2saq3cR
CA: https://amzn.to/2xdIxOD
AU: https://amzn.to/2IQ7hxz

B&N: https://bit.ly/2KZiEnz

24 May 2018

The Helldorado Mongrels MC is back! Jacey Holbrand Visits with her New Release!

Hello Jacey!  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?

Yes, it is! :) Enchanted by Him is the third story in the Helldorado Mongrels MC series. The series follows the lives of immortal shifters from different clans, stolen gold, an asshole of a motorcycle club president and individuals who find their mates.

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

I can do it for the series. :) I came up with how some of the shifters/Mongrels came to be from the history here in Nevada. Queho was a real man. Sources say the Native American was the first mass murderer in the state of Nevada and had cursed the land around the town of Nelson and the Techatticup Mine.

Q) What gave you the inspiration for your book?

I’d been toying with the idea for this series for the past few years after catching an episode of Haunted Highway on Syfy regarding the Hellhounds of Eldorado Canyon. As for the individual book… Book one came about from an anthology call. It didn’t make the anthology but was requested as a standalone. The second book is Jarrod’s story, the brother of Cameron who was in book one. Book three follows a character introduced in book two and wraps up a story arc.

Q) What are your upcoming projects?

I’m playing around with some ideas for a couple more books in this series (or doing them as a spin off) which will hopefully include what happens to Thumbs and/or Emma.

Hey folks!  Jacey Holbrand here. I'm happy to announce I have another story in my Helldorado Mongrels MC series out now: Enchanted by Him!

~ * ~ ABOUT THE BOOK ~ * ~

The timeline of Enchanted by Him overlaps the one set in the second book Seduced by Him. (The stories in the series can be read as standalones, but as with most series, it's best if they're read in order). In Enchanted by Him, we're reintroduced to the character Sloth—the man Tex, from Seduced by Him, is forced to ride up to Las Vegas with.

We follow Sloth and learn why he splits off from Tex, we learn Sloth's secret, and of course, we go on a journey with Sloth as he discovers his mate and falls in love. We also see what finally happens to Inferno, the leader of the Helldorado Mongrels MC.

Come be enchanted!

~ * ~ BLURB ~ * ~

Helldorado Mongrels MC member, Sloth, is a man with secrets. He’d joined the club with a specific goal in mind, and when three visitors arrive, he fears one of them will turn his world upside down. Especially since that newcomer is a witch and his mate.

Shaman, the medic from the Skinwalkers MC, was hired to find the woman after the Mongrels’s gold and has secrets himself. When he meets Sloth, the man he knows is destined for him, Shaman begins to reconsider his evil, witchy ways, and his internal conflict irritates him.

Despite the constant clashing of their differences, passion ignites between the two men. But will their secrets cause betrayal and hurt? Destroying their relationship before it even has a chance to fully develop? Or will love ultimately triumph?

~ * ~ EXCERPT ~ * ~

As he sputtered and his eyes watered, he spun away from the invisible partition and ran into the tall medic. The cowboy hat was gone, showing that the man sported long, jet black hair, drawn back into a ponytail. Memories of what his imagination had conjured up earlier flooded his mind and sent his cock twitching again. He had to fight an irresistible urge to drop to his knees before the man, unzip his black jeans, and take his shaft into his mouth.

Shaman chuckled, and once Sloth’s gaze connected with the medic’s gray-eyed gaze, Shaman lifted the corner of his mouth in a mischievous grin.

Sloth sucked in a stream of air as the man’s compelling and magnetic gaze held tight to his. Under the intense stare, Sloth’s body crackled and his joints hissed. The tingly sensations and odd sounds made him realize Shaman was stripping away all his cloaking spells. He tried to combat the psychic assault. His own powers weakened as Shaman continued to stare at him. All he had left was the mind block he’d put in place, and even that felt tenuous.

He attempted to step back and found he couldn’t move. Shaman had “frozen” him into place. Sloth thanked the Great Spirit he hadn’t actually been turned into an ice pop. He hated wintery cold temperatures. On top of it all, without the magic that’d been surrounding him for so long, he felt completely bare and exposed.

Again, Shaman offered a short laugh, this time snapping his fingers as well.

Sloth’s clothes disappeared. Not a stitch of fabric remained on him. To his dismay, he truly was naked. And traitor that it was, his hard cock stood at attention.

Who needs mind reading when my erection gives my thoughts away?

The medic strolled around him, seeming to appraise him like a stud at market. The man swept his fingers and hand over Sloth’s arm, buttocks, and the dip created by his spine at the top of his ass crack, making approving murmurs as he did so. Shaman came to stand in front of him and stroked his hand down Sloth’s chest to his cock.

He didn’t know how it was possible he could be rendered into a state of statue-like material, but still be able to perceive each brush of Shaman’s fingers and palm, the nuances of the man’s gentle touches and lingering caresses. Sloth would have sighed and swooned had he been able to.

“You know, perhaps I won’t kill you and consume your powers.” The medic looked up from Sloth’s cock and stared at his face. He raised a brow. “I see the shock in your eyes. Your gaze gives away everything you’re thinking.” His tone dripped of disapproval. “I’m a true skinwalker. Do you think being a mate matters to one of my kind? We crave power. Always need more. Doesn’t matter who, what, where, when, or how we get it as long as we amass as much as possible.”

Dread filled Sloth. His mate had considered killing him? Murdering him for skills he could barely use anymore himself? He wished he could close his eyes, block out the sight of Shaman, and be able to focus on clearing his head.

So much for the fairy tale euphoria of meeting one’s true love, feeling that instant connection, knowing there’s no one else who would love him unconditionally, and having the insatiable need to be with that someone.

Instead, he had confusion, despair, and panic about being tied to someone who might kill him in his sleep. Yet, he still couldn’t help being super attracted to the witch and wanting to fuck him—hard and fast or slow and easy. Didn’t matter to him how. As long as they got inside each other. And the fact that he craved to be physical with the skinwalker scared him even more.

“But then,” Shaman continued, “the pull I feel toward you is inexplicable. The thought of you no longer walking the earth pains me in a way I’ve never felt before and worsens with the idea of my hand taking you from your mortal coil. No. I won’t kill you. I won’t consume your power. But I will demand having all of you—body, heart, and soul. The two of us will be greater together as a bonded couple rather than just me having all the fun causing havoc everywhere.” Shaman clucked Sloth under the chin.

“I smell your attraction to me,” the medic stated, sneaking a glance at Sloth’s penis. “I see it, too. Yet, I also smell your fear. We can’t have that. Amorcito, you need to trust me … love me. I’m more than happy to give you some time to wrap your head around all of this. Not a lot of time, mind you, but whatever decision you come to, know this, you will be mine.”


~ * ~ BIO ~ * ~

Jacey Holbrand believes life and love comes in all forms and should be celebrated. She’s committed to her muse and writing so she can share her stories with readers. Hot days. Sexy nights. Come play in her world.

Jacey loves to hear from readers! Click the link to eMail her: JaceyHolbrand@gmail.com

~ * ~ STALK ~ * ~

21 May 2018

New Release by Faye Hall!

Hello Faye!  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?

Charity was not a hard character to create as I needed her to represent the true meaning of her name.  Avarice on the other hand was difficult as there is a fine line between gluttony – which the second book in the series – and greed.  Originally I thought I needed to make him be a greed driven man, changed by the love of a charitable woman but no matter what I did, he just wasn’t an appealing hero.  Eventually Avarice became a man who despised the greed driven man he was raised by instead, a character I felt was much easier to fall in love with.

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

Yes, Avarice & Charity is book number 3 in the Sins of the Virtuous series. The series itself explores the sins we are all tempted by and the virtues we aspire to portray.  Book 3 shows the sin of greed and how the person possessed by it will go to whatever lengths to satisfy it, including destroy the innocence of a charitable heart.

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

Avarice, the hero, his father comes from Veneto, Italy which is where my husband’s father’s family is from.  My heroine, Charity, her family is from Ballymena in Ireland, which is where my mother’s family is from.

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

I don’t usually plan them too much, but for this book series I have had to so I could be sure they all represented either a sin or a virtue.  That sai, they do tend to change from my original plan as the story grows.

Q) What are your upcoming projects?

I’ve just been offered a contract for book 4 in the series, so I’ll be working on edits for that soon.  In the meantime I’m hoping to get back to finishing the rest of the series.


A small smile spread across her lips. “Yet you agreed to meet me here, and I assure you I don’t owe your father money. Nor did I have business on my mind when I made my invitation to you.”

Again silence fell between them, their hands still joined. Charity hadn’t lied. She hadn’t come here to meet Avarice for any form of business. She genuinely wanted to see him again. For a reason that was unclear to her, she found him intriguing, and she craved to know more about him.

“Where did you get your necklace?” he asked her, suddenly breaking their mutual silence.

Pulling her hand away from his, her fingers went to the metal pendant hanging from the chain around her neck.

“My father told me it once belonged to my mother. She died when I was still a young child. I’ve worn it ever since.”

Avarice sipped his brandy. “I feel your loss,” he commented quietly. “I was also a child when I lost my mother.”

Watching the pain filling his face, Charity wondered what could have taken his mother away that still caused him so much pain to this day.

“Did your father tell you anything about the meaning of the pendant?” he asked, changing the topic of conversation back away from their family members.

She shook her head. “I assumed it was Irish, but I know nothing else about it.”

His finger traced the rim of his cup momentarily before he lifted his sight back up to her. “It was called a triskele by the ancient Celts. It was very important to them and seen in many of their carvings. Of the things it can represent, the most significant is that the three spirals joined symbolizes the joining of life, death, and rebirth.”

Sipping her sherry, she placed the glass back on the table. “How does the son of an Italian immigrant know so much about Irish legends?”

He smiled at her. “I guess it does seem a little bizarre.” Suddenly, the smile disappeared from his face. “My mother was Irish. My father never speaks about her, and I have few memories of her. All I really know is what the townspeople have told me. When I was still at school, I figured out that if I couldn’t know who my mother was, at least I could study her people.”

She reached across the table and laid her hand on top of his. She could relate to Avarice’s pain, for she too never learned much about her mother, nor would her father speak of her.

Catching sight of her driver trying to get her attention through the crowd, she quickly retracted her hand and pushed her chair out to stand. “I do apologize, but it appears I must return home now.”

Avarice stood too, reaching out and taking her hand in his. “Do you no longer want to be seen with me?” he asked, clearly confused by her actions. “Have you perhaps again caught sight of your intended?”

She giggled. “I’ve caught sight of my driver, and nothing more. He’s telling me it’s time I return home before my father notices I’m gone.”

Seeing his embarrassment, she laced her fingers with his.

“You’re the only man I’ve wanted to see,” she tried to reassure him. “And if I had a choice, I would much rather spend the rest of this night with you.”

He walked with her toward her waiting driver and carriage, no sign of wanting to break their joined hands.

“I’ve never spent an entire night with a woman,” he confessed as they walked. “Nor have I ached to as I do now.”

She squeezed his hand, not knowing what to say to his confession. Having heard the slight uncertainty in his voice, she doubted he gave this same admission to many others. That he’d given it to her, filled her with elation.

Stopping by the carriage, she turned to face him. He looked so handsome in the moonlight. She didn’t want to leave him, but she knew she had to. Pulling her hand away from his, she stepped back.

“Thank you for the drink, Avarice,” she said politely.

She lingered for a moment, her gaze joined to his, her emotions yearning for something more than a simple goodbye from him. Closing the distance between them again, her hands went to his shoulders as she leaned into him, her lips touching his. Feeling his hands on her back, pushing her against him, she knew she had to leave now before she accepted any advances he made.

Breaking their embrace, she stepped back and walked over to the open door of the carriage. “Goodnight,” she said softly as she stepped inside her transport.

Would you protect the one you love from relentless greed?
 Avarice Licciardi worked for his father, Antonio - a greedy, loveless man who destroyed everyone in his way.  When Avarice met Charity, a woman with fiery red hair and the touch of an angel, he discovered there was something he craved so much more than his father’s money.  What he wanted was this woman.
When Antonio ordered his son to get the hidden papers in Charity’s estate, Avarice refused.  That was until Antonio threatened to go get the papers himself.  Knowing the brutality of his father, Avarice went to Charity’s estate, ready to protect her at all cost.  When she invited him to stay with her, he hoped to find nights of endless passion.  What he found was a hidden tunnel with incriminating mysteries far greater than hidden papers.
 Charity Bohdan lived up to her name, giving her herbal medicinal treatments freely.  What started off as patching up wounds soon took a very different direction when she was being called to treat young women who’d been brutally raped and left pregnant.  She knew the risks involved with treating and re-homing these women, but until she could find the monster attacking them, she could see no other choice.
When Charity was called to treat a drunk’s wounded hand, she expected to find some elderly station hand.  Who she met was Avarice.  As she treated his wound, she couldn’t ignore just how handsome he was, or the feelings he stirred in her when their skin touched.  The more time they spent together, talking of Irish legends and going on picnics, Charity could feel herself losing her heart to him. 
Together Avarice and Charity are forced to uncover secrets from the past that sicken their souls as an evil, greedy man threatens to tear them apart in his search for the evidence hidden in the Bohdan estate. 


Author Bio
Come on a journey with me through 19th century North Queensland, Australia and explore the passions and hardships of unique characters.

There is corruption, deceit and murder, as well as cattle rustlers, slave traders and hell fire clubs. Explore townships of Jarvisfield and Inkerman, as well as Ravenswood and Bowen. One book even incorporates my great grandmothers cattle station 'Inkerman Downs Station'.

As well as an author, I am also the most spoilt wife in the world, and a very contented mother.
Come and discover all the passion and drama of North Queensland history with me.

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14 May 2018

Q & A with Larynn Ford!

Hello Larynn!  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?

Yes, the series is called The Dream Trilogy and highlights three stages in the lives of Lynzi Lancaster and Layne Brady.

The first book, In My Wildest Dreams, deals with the two reconnecting after twenty years apart. Layne was forced to abandon Lynzi without warning, leaving her to wonder what she had done to cause him to go. After twenty years, he comes back for her to protect her from an insane relative out to hurt Layne and his family. He confesses his reason for leaving her and also that he’s not human.

The second book, Dreams Do Come True, continues their adventures in the human world when a renegade were-panther threatens the human parents who helped raise him from an infant. Additional supernatural characters are introduced here along with budding magical abilities.

In the final chapter in their story, Living The Dream, even more threats are hurled toward Layne and his family. Their fight to end the danger leads them to a deadly outcome forcing the family to rely on an ancient sorcerer for help. There’s plenty of action, danger, and magic to go around as well.

Q) What gave you the inspiration for your book?

I started writing in high school. The “book” I was working on in tenth grade never went far but the idea of writing stayed with me. Many years later, I started reading again with a passion and the writing idea became stronger the more I read.

After the Twilight craze, I fell in love with paranormal romance and decided it was time to try my hand at writing again. I read so many vampire and werewolf books that I felt they were a bit overdone and I needed other ideas so, the main character in the trilogy became a hard to forget Fae being. The characters I create continue to inspire me.

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

Oh no, I’m not as organized as some authors. Outlines and time lines have never been . . . me. I will write a scene from my head and expand from there in all sorts of directions. The closest I get to outlining is jotting notes at the end of the document I’m working on and adding them when I get to the appropriate spot in the manuscript.

Q) How much real life do you put into or influences your books?

The story Lynzi tells in Dreams Do Come True of her granddaddy seeing black panthers on the edge of the woods as he plowed the fields is actually a story I heard my granddaddy tell when I was a little girl. Now, the part about them being weres? I just may have made that part up. Maybe J

Q) What are your upcoming projects?

It’s a bit of an unconventional situation. I had no plans for the trilogy to go in any other direction but . . . The good were-panther from the second book in the trilogy, Dreams Do Come True, stole my heart and had to tell his own story so, A Place To Belong with Boone’s story will be published early next year. After this who knows where that path will lead.

A similar situation happened with a character in my second book, Rescued. Roxie, the sassy teen who helped Rose and Marty solve their case had so much to say after Rescued was done that I am currently writing her story. She’s grown into quite a responsible young woman but her past is coming back to hunt her down.

And as long as my characters keep talking to me, I’ll always have something to write about.


Lynzi Lancaster Brady is, at long last, living her happily-ever-after with the man of her dreams. Their honeymoon bliss is interrupted when an innocent family visit drops her in the middle of the deadly situation they’ve been dodging for so long.

The troublemaking relative with a vendetta against the family, forces them into a final showdown with a disastrous ending that threatens to take the elder of their family from them forever. Will an ancient sorcerer to able to bring her back from death’s door?


I forced myself to calm and summoned a halfhearted smile. “Take care of them.” I mouthed the words, careful not to allow a hint of my request to reach Allvis’s eyes or ears. Layne would know I meant my sweet girls and I would die knowing they’d be safe and protected with him watching over them forever. I’d leave this world with the satisfaction I had not revealed their existence or endangered their lives.

My husband pressed both hands against the unseen barrier and acknowledged my request with a nod. I read the words, “I love you, Lynzi Brady” on his lips.



Larynn Ford is intrigued by the paranormal. She's a day dreamer and a romantic. She loves to let her mind wander always searching for a happy ending to her dreams.

At home in East Central Alabama, she worked as a cook and cashier before becoming a wife and mother. Earned a degree in Elementary Education, taught school, and worked in customer service. All the while her day dreams stacked up in the archives of her mind.

She put some of those ideas on paper in 2009 and she's going to keep on dreaming and searching for those happy endings.

08 May 2018

Lea Bronsen talks about her NEW RELEASE!

Hi, and thank you for hosting me on your blog!

I got the idea for this story after watching a video of French “globe cooker” Fred Chesneau visiting nomads in the Moroccan desert. They generously shared their food, home, and wisdom with a stranger, and I thought it would be cool to write about a female rally driver having the same experience.

A Thorned Rose in the Sand is set in the beautiful, quiet dunes of western Sahara where the sun is so hot you can’t walk barefooted and you could go miles and miles without seeing a single soul. In this story, you’ll meet a badass 450cc rally motorcycle, an opiniated but gentle dromedary, and two highly strong-willed young persons from opposite sides of the planet who get off to a bad start then can’t keep their hands off each other 😊  

A Thorned Rose_banner.jpg

  When life in a big U.S. city becomes too much, Stevie Jones decides to live her wildest dream – compete against the tough guys in a motorcycle rally across Morocco. But the real excitement is found away from the race track, in the shifting sands of the desert.

After his studies in London, Ragab has returned to the nomadic lifestyle of his Bedouin family and the majestic silence of the Sahara. He dreams of the perfect wife, until a beautiful but feisty biker stuck in a sand dune turns his quiet world upside down.  

Available from

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A Thorned Rose in the Sand-3D-eReader


The girl screamed behind him. “Eeeeee!”

Too hard to resist. Until now, Ragab had had a difficult time respecting her privacy, but surely, a scream called for attention. What kind of a gentleman would he be if he didn’t check on a woman in distress?

He spun and found her kneeling on her jacket, nude and wet, arms outstretched in shock. He bit down a laugh. Yes, the deep well water was cold, but one got used to it, and in the extreme heat of the desert, it was a blessing.

She turned, caught him staring, and even though he couldn’t see anything inappropriate, she hurried to cover her breasts and pubic area. “Look away!” she shouted, voice panicky.

The laugh bubbled inside him, but he obediently turned back to the motorcycle—then stood in such a way he could see her reflection in one of the side mirrors.

Oh, it was like watching a porn scene. Her long, red curls hung wild over her back and round, white butt cheeks. Every time she moved, a portion of her breasts appeared in the space between her ribs and arms. Such perfect feminine curves, all over. Imagine if he saw the front…

Blood rushed to his groin. Stiffening, bothered, he tore from the sight, walked over to the well, and leaned against its waist-high wall, hoping the hardness of the bricks and coolness from the water below would temper his arousal before it became a full-blown erection.

So silent…

He strained to hear.

Splashes. Muffled squeals. More splashes.

He turned slowly and stole a glance from the corner of his eye.

She washed her panties and black top in the bucket and leaned forward to spread them in the sun. Her position exposed the dark pink lips of her sex, from the tiny hole in her butt to the end of her slit, where her clitoris hid.


Shocked to his core, he turned back and groaned low, his cock hardening again.

He closed his eyes, drew long, slow breaths to calm the painful throbbing and counted minutes, trying to think of something else.

His dromedary, for example. It would be cool to show her how to ride it. What if he rode another one, and they both galloped on the dunes together, she laughing, ecstatic…

Then they’d roll in the sand, and he would tease her thighs apart and slide his hungry hardness into her dark pink lips, to the wet bottom of her. Oh, yes.

She called, “Ready?”

He risked a glance in her direction.

Wearing one of his sisters’ dresses and looking divine with her red curls floating behind her—and her face white and clean—she strolled to the motorcycle, carrying a bag and her clothes. She stuffed everything on top of the fuel tanks, got up, lifted the dress to her knees, and started the motor.

Not once looking at him.

About the author

Lea Bronsen likes her reads hot, fast, and edgy, and strives to give her own stories the same intensity.
After venturing into dirty inner-city crime drama with her debut novel Wild Hearted, she divides her writing time between psychological thriller, romantic suspense, and dark erotic romance.

Meet Lea Bronsen on

07 May 2018

The Amazing Katherine Wyvern Visits with her NEW RELEASE!

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?

Ah! In this book, it came about in a complicated way! To begin with, I thought I’d write a prequel to my previous release, Woman as a Foreign Language. In that book one of the main characters had a back story where they had been rejected by a lover due to their complicated gender identity. But then I decided to move this storyline on a different character, Raphael. And then a dear friend of mine, talking about himself, said “I am an angel with a bit of a devil inside”. And that sparked the idea that Raphael could be a really complex character with a double nature in everything, not just his gender identity… The other two characters in the story, Hugh and Di, were originally just accessory to Raphael’s complexity, but the more I wrote about them the more they gained a life and a will of their own…

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

Yes and no. It can be read as a complete standalone, and it’s not really a sequel to Woman as a Foreign Language. But the two books are still linked together by their main topic (unusual gender-identity) and the characters from WaaFL both appear briefly in the new novel so that we get a small glimpse of their story after the end of the first volume.

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

I was not sure, for a long time how to bring about Raphael/Lucie’s and Di first meeting… in the end, I thought, oh well, write what you know, right? And I used pretty much my husband’s and mine first meeting. He was busking on a really cold day, and I was so struck by this beautiful music that I brought him a mug of hot chocolate from a nearby cafè…  also in that occasion there was an element of gender confusion, since to begin with he was not sure if I was a boy or a girl!

Q) What gave you the inspiration for your book?

It’s been a mixture of personal life experiences and many interesting, beautiful, often heartbreaking stories of transgender people coming out to their beloved (sometimes in unwise ways) and being sometimes lovingly accepted and sometimes rejected in a very painful manner. I wanted to write a story about secrecy, disclosure, rejection and gradual acceptance, as perceived from both parties. I wanted to send a plea for empathy and tolerance to *both* transgender and cisgender readers.

Oh and there was this outrageously hot crossdresser I came across on Instagram… talk about inspiration! J

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

Oh, they definitely develop as I write. In this story in particular Hugh changed from a secondary character (and a bit of a dickhead) to a fantastically layered, deep, moving person, and my true voice in the story. It was completely unexpected and I became tremendously attached to him because he acquired so much a life of his own, and absolutely refused to be set aside for Raphael’s new love interest. It became clear that this book was not going to end without him being part of the picture and he broke my heart with his desperate and unexpected plea not to be left out.

Q) How much real life do you put into or influences your books?

A lot. In fact all of my books are to a degree autobiographical. In this particular story it is more diffused than in my last, but there are still many bits and pieces of me scattered here and there: how I met my husband, some of my cats, an interest in art and the Pre-Raphaelite painters, a life outdoors (and the fear that it might come to an end one day), a certain gender-queerness, a deep, heartbreaking, longing reverence for a certain kind of beauty that I can never, ever possess but just admire.

And believe me, I have been up to a lot of weird stuff in my life, so I still have many “slightly autobiographical” stories to tell J

Q) What are your upcoming projects?

There is the third book in this sort of loose series, a spin-off from Spice & Vanilla that is set in Victorian London (did I mention the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood? Wink wink). It is a story about an artist who has had a “painter block” for years and the mystery woman who unleashes his creativity again… It’s supposed to be a short story, but then, so was Spice & Vanilla J


Time was, when Di could dance all night. Time was, when she could ride any horse in the stable. Time was when she had a fiancée, a future and a home she loved. Until a silver SUV came out of nowhere and broke her life in half.

Well concealed under a sarcastic, spiny hide, Hugh has a darkly romantic, passionate soul. Torn between love and terror, he’s held the talented, elegant, magnetic Raphael carefully at arm’s length since the day they met.

Male or female, men or women, kinky or sweet, top or bottom? Angel or devil? Raphael’s life is a string of unanswered questions. And Lucie, his long-hidden female self, may bring it all together or destroy everything he has.

Be warned: cross-dressing, gender-queer, explicit M/M and M/F sex, anal sex, spanking, flogging, bondage, forced orgasm, sex toys


Hugh watched him stroking away with great contentment. He was totally worn out after a crazy day at work, and it was not always easy to find the energy to satisfy such an enthusiastic masochist. There were days when he wished Raphael were a bit less fond of being spanked and whipped, but he always did his best to oblige him. The thought of his Raphael going out there looking for release from God-only-knows-whom, and getting hurt for real by some less scrupulous or talented Dom was just unbearable. Still, tonight he would lie back and relax. Mostly. I will have to help him eventually, he thought with a slightly evil grin, but I can take a breather first.

Raphael stroked in perfect tempo. He was one of the most technically exact musicians Hugh had ever played with, after all. Too exact, in fact.

It would do him so much good to let go a bit, to just go with the flow, be wild and imprecise and purely passionate. Then he would not need so much of this.

Tick—tock—tick—tock—tick—tock, went the metronome, and Raphael stroked and stroked. It was a good while before Hugh could tell, from a small furrow between those blond eyebrows, that the unchanging, slow rhythm was beginning to frustrate him. He smiled a bit wider and said nothing, devouring his beautiful quarry with his eyes. He watched, entranced the fluid play of flesh and skin as Raphael’s long pale cock, a nice ruddy purple by now, sank and reemerged into and from his fist, the velvet-like foreskin lapping beautifully over the shinier, silky glans, the testicles bouncing softly to the rhythm as the scrotum was pulled up and released. It was hard to resist the temptation to throw the whole scene to the devil and just take that cock in his mouth and suck it empty.

This is without exception the best use a metronome was ever put to.

Raphael’s body was developing a number of small, charming tics and twitches. He briefly lifted his left knee from the mattress then relaxed again. His right wrist was pulling on the strap from time to time, and his breath was coming in slightly ragged bursts.

Still it took a long time. Too much control, thought Hugh, smiling. Tsk-tsk.


He slowly unfolded his hands and moved to sit between Raphael’s legs. He spit on his middle finger and watched Raphael’s face, half hopeful, half anxious, as he slowly approached his anus. He didn’t hurry. He let Raphael wait for it. He would beg, in time, Hugh knew, but there was no need for that, not yet. He finally pressed his fingertip to the twitching, tight, live rose of flesh and felt it jolt and spasm. He massaged it in circles, with relish, and didn’t even try to penetrate it. Raphael was shaking all over, trying to press down on his finger, but there was just so far he could stretch, tied as he was. His belly muscles went taut. They were contracting in random, jerky convulsions. Hugh had never seen anything so beautiful.

Then Raphael missed a beat. His hand had picked up pace, ignoring all orders. Raphael whimpered, trying to compensate to get back in the right tempo. The double change of pace made him squirm all over. He swallowed twice and missed the beat again. This time Hugh slapped the inside of his thigh, very hard. Raphael could take a long regular series of well-spaced blows with relative ease, but a single hard slap coming down out of the blue like that drew a ragged cry from him.

“You do know what tempo means, I asked?” Hugh said, in a plain chatty voice. He had never had any taste whatsoever for histrionics. He was not, he had never been, a theatrical Dom. He wasn’t in it for setting up a show. He just got the job done.

“Yes. Yes!” said Raphael, a bit frantic. He managed to stick to the rhythm for a minute longer, until Hugh gently stuck his finger just within the ring of his anus. All of Raphael’s body twisted, and he lost all track of the cold, mechanical rhythm of the metronome.

And that is exactly what you need, my love . Too much playing by the rules, too much fucking control. You need to find your own tempo, and just let go.

Five or six fast hard strokes followed. Hugh slapped him twice, on his thigh, and, when he turned suddenly, on his butt. And then Raphael came, on the third slap, as he flopped flat on his back again, crying out in pleasure or pain, or both. It was hard to tell. Semen spurted out in beautiful, long, arched white streamers, splattering over Raphael’s belly, chest, and even his face.

It is difficult to aim while being spanked hard.

Hugh watched him coming, avidly.

He was so naked. So vulnerable, so unguarded. Hugh, who felt, every day, that he might shatter like glass, on Raphael’s unearthly, impossibly graceful, self-possessed beauty, lived for these moments, to watch him released of all self-consciousness and all bonds. Strange, how it took a bunch of leather straps to get him to do that.

“Ah, oh, shit. That hurt,” Raphael whispered after a minute. “Not complaining, mind,” he added, with a small edgy laugh, wiping some drops of sperm from his lips and eyebrow.

“Good,” said Hugh, quite composed, despite the erection straining in his pants. Watching Raphael twitching and jolting while covered in glistening semen was not a sight to leave him unmoved. He reached out for the metronome, stopped it and lowered the weight a tad, then started it again.

This was a faster, business-like tempo.

“There you go, hot lips,” he said to Raphael, who was still breathing hard from his orgasm.

“What? Wh—but…”

Hugh gave him a small devilish smile. Raphael was perfectly capable of coming two or three times in one night, but, like most men, he needed a while to recuperate in between. Well, tonight, he wasn’t getting it.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

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