#ReadWithMe ♥ Finding My Genre

readwithme3In celebration of National Reading Month, Ms. Felicia is hosting this amazing blog hop for all readers to spread the love and joy of this favorite pastime with the world. If you’d like to join in the fun, please click on the banner above to add your post to the linky list!

The Novel Brick Road

Every reader develops differently, but it seems that we eventually come to a specific genre that calls to us more than any other. Even if we take brief detours, we come back to the one genre that always puts a smile on our face.

My path to Erotic Romance is paved like a game of hopscotch, jumping genres back and forth and crossing wide gaps in random patterns. I’m not counting all the books I read as a kid or had to read for school. I’m talking about when I started taking control of my own reading choices.

It started off innocent enough. The reading bug coming to nestle in my brain, demanding that I find something to entertain it. My mom had a wide variety of books to choose from. She was a fan of Stephen King, Terry Brooks, Ann Rule and V.C. Andrews – I didn’t understand these were all different genres. They were just books! I read Clive Barker’s The Thief of Always and wanted to live in his brain, but it was really V.C. Andrews I became addicted to for quite some time. Luckily, my mom had plenty of her books to feed my obsession.

I went through a phase following this that I call the researching years. I wanted to know things, so my dad and I started going to the library on a regular basis. I love ancient Egypt. I have books and then I have BOOKS, as in large Coffee Table hardcovers spanning every dynasty of Ancient Egypt. I was going to become the next Howard Carter. I was 14. I was also going to be a supermodel, fashion designer and a Marine Biologist. Not necessarily in that order.

Around the same time, I got my first taste of the paranormal from the (now famous) author L.J. Smith and her Night World series, which includes the well known Vampire Diaries and Secret Circle. This was the first author I ever purchased from a book store with my own money. It was a big accomplishment in my life as an avid reader. I had never heard of L.J. Smith before, but I suddenly had options. Lots and lots of options!

It led to more research. With the help of Francis Ford Coppola, I became extremely interested in reading everything I could get my hands on about the truth behind the myth of Dracula and the real life Vlad III, Prince of Wallachia. It eventually led to me learning about the medical condition of Porphyria, which disenchanted my research, so I returned to my fiction. I read Anno Dracula by Kim Newman. My dad never would’ve let me check it out from the library if he’d known what it entailed. A fanfiction sequel of sorts to Bram Stoker’s masterpiece with all of the dirty details a Victorian era Englishman would never dare to write.

On the hunt for new material, I found Anne Rice and never looked back. As much as I loved L.J. Smith, I couldn’t return to what I suddenly realized was very YA in comparison. More than that, Anne opened my mind up to the world at large, sating my inner traveler and historian simultaneously.

I became obsessed again, and only wanted to read Anne Rice… until I couldn’t find anymore of her books and needed another loan – mind you, this was before the wonderful invention of eBook retailers. Magic’s Pawn by Mercedes Lackey was placed in my hand with a “You have to read this,” and so I fell headlong into the mind-blowing world of epic fantasy. Now, I remembered, vaguely, The Hobbit from when I was younger and my favorite movie The Last Unicorn. It was a bit nostalgic diving back into this kind of world – only better, because it was at an adult level without losing any of the wonder of magic.

My first book idea was born on the cusp of my 18th birthday, but not yet hatched… more on this later.

Over my young adult years I read a wide variety, even some non-fiction, but mostly it was keeping up with authors I already knew, like Rice and Lackey. Then I ended up with a Nora Roberts book (honestly can’t recall how) and found myself obsessed yet again. I wasn’t alone this time, though. My friends got on the same kick and we had a grand time swapping books, buying new ones to share, putting them on our birthday and Christmas wish lists and discussing them like crazy. I think between just 3 of us we might own almost 75% of the books she’s ever written… okay, maybe 50%. Nora was my first true Romance author and not what I’d been expecting. I had never even glanced at the ‘obvious’ romance books on the shelves with the bare-chested buccaneers and Scarlett O’Hara wannabe’s.

Having children gave me the perfect excuse to return to YA with Harry Potter, Narnia and Eragon… yes, the books, not the movies (though, I love those, too). My oldest also has some of the Immortal Instruments novels, which I’m very tempted to read since watching City of Bones.

Nora Roberts writing as J.D. Robb unwittingly led me to my first erotica series, though it falls further under the Crime/Detective genre, the sex scenes are explicitly detailed, whereas Nora Roberts’ usually aren’t. I think she sneaks it in every once in awhile.

I went through a stint where I felt left out from a pop-culture standpoint, because I’d never read any of the ‘literary classics’. So, I attempted the Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck and found it far too dry and boring (don’t hurt me), so I moved onto The Catcher in the Rye, which was entertaining, yet 100% pointless (again no hitting). Of Mice and Men left me emotionally damaged and Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 is a prophetic masterpiece that’s already coming true, therefore should be reclassified as non-fiction horror.

My first BDSM novel was Kushiel’s Dart by Jacqueline Carey. Again, by ignorance. I thought it was just a fantasy. I was deliciously wrong. Later, I found out that Anne Rice also had other pseudonyms… and why. Exit to Eden followed by the Sleeping Beauty Chronicles added to my Erotic-BDSM shelf, Belinda borders on taboo and I haven’t finished reading it, but I think it might be along the lines of Nabokov’s Lolita – don’t quote me on that.

The ability to read an eBook helped open up the Erotic Romance genre for me even further when I became a reviewer for a friend’s reviewing site. It wasn’t long, though, before a new bug burrowed into my brain demanding to be fed – and I started writing…

But, I will save that for the next post. 😉

Are you still reading the same genre you first fell in love with, or perhaps the second? How many genres span your most cherished collection?

Redeemed by: Brie Paisley ♥ Release Blitz!

Release Blitz

 

Redeemed by Brie Paisley 

Worshipped Series 

Book #3

 


 

Jason

I’ve lived in total darkness for as long as I can remember.

A dangerous place where pain, love, not even remorse was felt. My world was filled with blood and death until the day I met Karen. Little by little she showed me the way out of that darkness, into her light. She was everything I needed and craved. I learned to fight my darkness, wanted the good side of me to win, until old and new enemies threaten to take away everything and everyone I care about. Darkness is winning and I fear the only one that can redeem me is the one I’ll end up hurting more than I thought possible.

Karen can save me, only if she beats the dark beast inside of me.

 

Karen

Control is the one thing I understand the most.

It’s the one thing I’ve depended on to keep my fragile heart safe. That was my life until Jason changed everything. He opened up a side of me I thought had disappeared long ago, and the control I needed for so long doesn’t seem so appealing. There’s a void, a hole left inside me now that Jason’s not by my side. I know his demons. I know his dark beast that dwells within him waiting to takeover completely. I’ve seen it, felt it, and when the monster breaks free, I fear for everyone I love.

He thinks I can save him, but in the end, he’s the only one that can redeem himself.

 

*Note: This is the final book of the Worshipped Series and is not intended to be read as standalones.*

 

 

Book #1 – Worshipped

 

 

 

Book #2 – Betrayed

 

 

 

 

Brie Paisley is a

small town gal from Mississippi. She always wanted to write at a young age and

was always filling journals with her thoughts and short stories. Brie started

with the idea of Worshipped a year ago and with the encouragement of her husband

and sister in law, she was able to write her first book. When she is not

writing, you can find her reading a good book, painting, scrapbooking, or

watching a good movie with her husband and her boxer.

 

 

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Always Wanting by Alex Grayson ♥ Release Day Blitz!

IT’S LIVE!

My name is Abigail Summers, and I’m addicted to sex. Yes, you read right. I’m a woman that craves… no, needs to have a man take my body on a daily basis. If I don’t have sex at least once a day, my body shakes from withdrawals, my stomach cramps with unbearable pain, my sexually hazed mind goes haywire, and I become extremely irritable and a major bitch. This isn’t a lifestyle I’ve chosen for myself. It’s a struggle I deal with every single day.

I don’t do relationships, because what man wants to be stuck knowing his girl may be out having sex with some random guy if he’s not available? You may think this is something that I can control, but I say screw you; you’ve never been in my shoes before.

The cravings may be something I can’t control, but I’ve learned to embrace them. I’ve tried the sexual addiction support groups. I’ve tried curbing my appetites. I’ve been shunned, criticized, ridiculed, and called every nasty name under the sun. Well, I say fuck all you judgmental assholes. I’ll have sex with who I want, when I want, where I want. Embarrassment? That’s a thing of the past. This is my life now, and those that don’t like it can go straight to hell.

But then he came along and screwed everything up. Colt Maverick. For once in my life, I want more, crave more from one guy. A guy that’s sweet and doesn’t match my hard interior. A guy that looks at me like he wants to eat me alive and claim me as his own. A guy that will most definitely not be okay with my addiction. A guy that I want over and over again, not because my body demands it, but because I demand it.

I now have a new addiction. But will he be enough to satisfy my uncontrollable desires?

“Which is it, Abby?” I growl, needing to know if I should kick this guy’s ass for hurting her, or kick his ass for daring to touch what is mine.

“Neither.”

She shakes her head, swallows, then looks up at me. Her eyes carry the same confusion I’m feeling.

“I didn’t want him, but he wasn’t hurting or forcing me, either.”

“Abby, what—”

“Take me back to my place,” she blurts out, interrupting me.

For the first time tonight, I notice the sheen of sweat on her forehead and the paleness of her cheeks. She doesn’t look like she feels well. My ire dies, and concern takes over. Her eyes once again drop from mine when she sees my worry. I bend my knees and force her to look at me when I get in her face.

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask.

“Nothing,” she mumbles. “I just want to get out of here.”

I don’t believe her, but when I see the pinch of pain on her face, I decide to force the issue later, once we’re alone.

“My place.” I back away and grab her hand. “It’s closer,” I add when she looks like she wants to object.

Luckily, she nods.

The forgotten guy on the floor has managed to sit up and lean against the wall, still holding his nose and stomach. My eyes narrow at him when he looks up and spots us. The bastard shrinks back further against the wall at my look.

Smart man.

“The back door,” Abby murmurs and pulls on my hand, leading me to a back entrance.

After stepping outside into the dark alleyway, Abby stumbles to a stop several feet from the door. I look to see what’s wrong and find her staring at me. The look in her eyes is hard to distinguish. I see pain, uncertainty, and a hint of what looks like desire. The desire is what confuses me. She’s obviously hurting, so how can she be turned on at the same time?

“Blue,” she says softly, her hand tightening in mine.

“What is it?” I ask, stepping into her space.

What’s up with this woman? Something’s off with her, and I need to find out what it is before she drives me crazy.

The hand she was using to hold mine releases its grip and lands on my lower stomach. Her other hand trails a path up my chest and snakes around my neck. I gaze down at her in bewilderment when she steps closer and plasters her front to mine, her tits flattening against my hard chest.

She grips the waistband of my jeans. “I need you,” she whispers harshly.

My dick jerks, and I want nothing more than to sink my hands into her plump ass, lift her up, and sink inside her, but I don’t. I need to get her home and find out what’s wrong with her first.

“Let’s get you back to my place.”

“No,” she whimpers. She raises her hands and digs her nails into my scalp. “I need you, Blue. Please.”

Alex Grayson is originally from the south, but has recently moved to Northern Ohio. Although she misses the warmth of Florida and often times detest the cold of Ohio, she absolutely loves living in the north. Her and her husband bought a house on two acres of land and live there with their daughter, son, one dogs, two cats, eight ducks, and three chickens. She hopes to eventually get a couple of goats to add to their country way of living. Besides her family and home, her next best passion is reading. She is often found with her nose obsessively stuck in a book, much to the frustration of her husband and daughter. On more than one occasion Alex found herself wanting a book to go a certain way, but it didn’t. With these thoughts in mind, she decided to start writing stories according to her own visions. Although this is a new endeavor for her, she hopes that readers find her concepts on romance intriguing and captivating. Alex welcomes and encourages feedback, of any kind. She can be contacted at alexgraysonauthor@gmail.com.

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Cover Reveal ♥ Redeemed by Brie Paisley!

 

Cover Reveal

 

Redeemed by Brie Paisley 

Worshipped Series 

Book #3

 


 

Jason

I’ve lived in total darkness for as long as I can remember. A dangerous place where pain, love, not even remorse was felt. My world was filled with blood and death until the day I met Karen. Little by little she showed me the way out of that darkness, into her light. She was everything I needed and craved. I learned to fight my darkness, wanted the good side of me to win, until old and new enemies threaten to take away everything and everyone I care about. Darkness is winning and I fear the only one that can redeem me is the one I’ll end up hurting more than I thought possible.

Karen can save me, only if she beats the dark beast inside of me.

Karen

Control is the one thing I understand the most. It’s the one thing I’ve depended on to keep my fragile heart safe. That was my life until Jason changed everything. He opened up a side of me I thought had disappeared long ago, and the control I needed for so long doesn’t seem so appealing. There’s a void, a hole left inside me now that Jason’s not by my side. I know his demons. I know his dark beast that dwells within him waiting to takeover completely. I’ve seen it, felt it, and when the monster breaks free, I fear for everyone I love.

He thinks I can save him, but in the end, he’s the only one that can redeem himself.

*Note: This is the final book of the Worshipped Series and is not intended to be read as standalones.*

 

 

Redeemed T1.jpg

 

Book #1 – Worshipped

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Book #2 – Betrayed

 

bpcover2

 

 

 

Brie Paisley is a small town gal from Mississippi. She always wanted to write at a young age and was always filling journals with her thoughts and short stories. Brie started with the idea of Worshipped a year ago and with the encouragement of her husband and sister in law, she was able to write her first book. When she is not writing, you can find her reading a good book, painting, scrapbooking, or watching a good movie with her husband and her boxer.
 

TwitterLink

 

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Cover Reveal ♥ Always Wanting by: Alex Grayson!

 

3..2..1..

 

COVER REVEAL!

 

 

aw-blurb

 

My name is Abigail Summers, and I’m addicted to sex. Yes, you read right. I’m a woman that craves… no, needs to have a man take my body on a daily basis. If I don’t have sex at least once a day, my body shakes from withdrawals, my stomach cramps with unbearable pain, my sexually hazed mind goes haywire, and I become extremely irritable and a major bitch. This isn’t a lifestyle I’ve chosen for myself. It’s a struggle I deal with every single day.

 

I don’t do relationships, because what man wants to be stuck knowing his girl may be out having sex with some random guy if he’s not available? You may think this is something that I can control, but I say screw you; you’ve never been in my shoes before.

 

The cravings may be something I can’t control, but I’ve learned to embrace them. I’ve tried the sexual addiction support groups. I’ve tried curbing my appetites. I’ve been shunned, criticized, ridiculed, and called every nasty name under the sun. Well, I say fuck all you judgmental assholes. I’ll have sex with who I want, when I want, where I want. Embarrassment? That’s a thing of the past. This is my life now, and those that don’t like it can go straight to hell.

 

But then he came along and screwed everything up. Colt Maverick. For once in my life, I want more, crave more from one guy. A guy that’s sweet and doesn’t match my hard interior. A guy that looks at me like he wants to eat me alive and claim me as his own. A guy that will most definitely not be okay with my addiction. A guy that I want over and over again, not because my body demands it, but because I demand it.

 

I now have a new addiction. But will he be enough to satisfy my uncontrollable desires?

 

 

 

 

“Oh God, please make it stop,” I moan through the pain gripping my stomach.

It’s never been this bad before. I can barely breath through the pain. Each breath in and out alternates between feeling like a million tiny dull knifes are scraping my insides to sharp needles puncturing ever surface of my skin. I draw my knees closer to my chest and tighten my arms around them. I shiver uncontrollably. I’m not sure if it’s my regular shaking or if it’s because of the blast of icy cold water raining down on me. I’m naked in the shower because my body felt like it was on fire. I needed to cool off. The water is no longer helping, now it just feels like small drops of lava are being poured all over me. My head pounds and tears drip down my cheeks, mingling with the water.

I want to move, I want to get out, but I’m so fucking scared. I barely made it to the shower in the first place. The cramps were so bad that I literally had to crawl my way into the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before emptying my stomach.

Why in the hell did I decide to put myself through this? I should have known better. I should have known this wouldn’t work. I’ve tried this before. I don’t know if this time is worse or if I’ve just forgotten the pain of not giving my godforsaken body what it craves.

I try to clench my teeth shut, but they still manage to chatter together. I’m surprised I haven’t chipped any. You know when you’re so cold that your body is constantly spasming to get your blood flowing to warm your body? Yeah, that’s me right now. My entire body is starting to cramp from the ridged way I’ve been holding it for the past twenty minutes.

I feel so goddamn hopeless. I don’t even have my phone with me to call for help. All I can do it sit here and pray the city runs out of water soon. I silently laugh hysterically at myself with that thought. I’m so fucking stupid.

I drop my head on my knees and cry out when the slight movement causes a well of pain to go through my chest and stomach. I cry, but I try to do it softly, so my body doesn’t rack with sobs, making the pain worse.

My fuddled mind turns to Blue. I see his gorgeous Caribbean blue eyes staring at me and it brings a new pain to my chest. One that has nothing to do with my body’s need for fulfillment. This pain is focused on me accepting once and for all that there’s no way we could ever work out. I feel like my world is cracking in two, and I’m being torn into pieces. I didn’t realize how badly I want this to work, until I realized it never would. I’m mourning something that never really started.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I sit as still as I can and wish for the coldness of the water to numb my body, to take away the pain that’s slowly destroying me, knowing that it’s a wish that won’t come true.
 

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Alex Grayson is originally from the south, but has recently moved to Northern Ohio. Although she misses the warmth of Florida and often times detest the cold of Ohio, she absolutely loves living in the north. Her and her husband bought a house on two acres of land and live there with their daughter, son, one dogs, two cats, eight ducks, and three chickens. She hopes to eventually get a couple of goats to add to their country way of living.

Besides her family and home, her next best passion is reading. She is often found with her nose obsessively stuck in a book, much to the frustration of her husband and daughter. On more than one occasion Alex found herself wanting a book to go a certain way, but it didn’t. With these thoughts in mind, she decided to start writing stories according to her own visions. Although this is a new endeavor for her, she hopes that readers find her concepts on romance intriguing and captivating. Alex welcomes and encourages feedback, of any kind. She can be contacted at alexgraysonauthor@gmail.com.

 

 

 

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Blog Tour ♥ Natalie’s Edge Series by: R.B. O’Brien!

Blog Tour

The Natalie’s Edge Series

R.B. O’Brien

Author: R.B. O’Brien
Series: The Natalie’s Edge Series
Genre: Erotica Romance Suspense
Each book in the series is now available for $2.99

nataliesedgebanner

Series Overview:

Twenty-seven year old former ballet dancer, Natalie Smith, thought she had everything she needed in life: A successful business, devoted boyfriend, and loving best friend. But when she meets the mysterious environmentalist, Michael L. Black, Natalie’s ascent into self-discovery begins.

Michael introduces Natalie to a world of dominance and submission filled with lust and passion. But Michael walks a fine line between his dark and light sides as he comes to terms with his past. It will test their relationship, and all they have worked so hard to achieve, a true bond, may leave them on the edge of destruction.

Natalie’s Edge 1: Tempatation Natalie’s Edge 2: Fall Natalie’s Edge 3: Redemption

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Temptation, Natalie’s Edge Book 1
Synopsis:

He didn’t think he was capable of love; she thought she had everything she ever needed. But when former ballet dancer and entrepreneur Natalie Smith and environmentalist Michael Black meet, they are thrust into a headlong relationship that may devastate them both.

Falling almost too fast for this enigmatic, controlling man, Natalie is both excited and terrified by the fine line Michael walks between his dark and light side, as he introduces her to a world of games, bondage, and punishments. And to her surprise, she likes her submission. She likes the control he wields. And he cannot have it any other way. He likes to bring Natalie to the edge, and she likes the edge he brings her to. Pleasure has never felt so good.

But can Michael fully let go of his trust issues and fall in love? Or will his past leave Natalie on the edge of pain?

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Excerpt from Natalie’s Edge 1: Temptation

He brought my iPhone into the bedroom, found the ballet Giselle, and let the music play. It put me in a state of deep emotion when I listened to it. My feelings about dance were as mixed up as my feelings were for Michael. Pain and beauty wrapped into one unfathomable emotion. He removed his blue t-shirt and jeans, boxer shorts the only thing remaining on his perfect body as he sat next to me on the bed. He was so sexy. I began to kiss him as if my life depended on it.

“Roll over and let me massage you, Natalie.” His tone created a trance-like reaction in me.

I rolled over onto my stomach. He began kneading my neck, then my shoulders, working his way across my back, stopping just above my ass. The music engulfed me and his touches were sensual but relaxing. I was in a state of euphoric relaxation. He began to kiss me lightly, first behind my ears and then over my neck, moving down to trail kisses over my back. Goose bumps appeared all over my body.

“Spread your legs a little for me, Natalie.”

I did, embarrassed at how wet I already was. I tried not to squirm or moan. I wanted it to last, last the whole night.

“I love the way your lower back gathers in this indentation above your ass,” he breathed, kissing the spot. “There’s so much I want to learn about you.”

“Aaah,” I let out, moaning into the pillow. “There’s so much I want to learn about you,” I echoed.

He continued down my legs, first the outside of my thighs all the way down to my calves, lightly tickling my feet, as I moved a little, giggling.

“You’re such a ticklish woman, Natalie. Yet another thing that turns me on about you. So responsive, so sensitive. I like that.”

His fingers stroked the insides of my calves simultaneously, moving slowly up my thighs, stopping just short of my pussy. Skipping over my pussy, he began to lightly tease my ass cheeks with his fingers, kissing me ever so lightly all over my ass, my back, my neck.

“I can taste your saltiness. You are delicious.”

I blushed. “I told you I needed to shower.” A moan escaped my lips again as he continued to kiss my ass, his fingers touching between my legs, lightly brushing my pussy like feathers.

“Maybe later,” he said languidly. “I like the way you taste. Now roll over,” he demanded. “Put your arms above your head and clasp them. Don’t move them. Now, cross your legs and put them in the air, straight up.”

“Michael,” I groaned but did as he asked. All the relaxation was completely gone now. Desire pooled in my lower abdomen and beyond, and I began to tremble.

He began to lightly stroke my pussy in this uncomfortable, yet erotic position, and juices streamed out of me. “Next time, I’ll tie your legs like this, so you can relax more. But I can see the strength of your legs. You are so sexy, Natalie.”

I couldn’t say anything as his feather-light touches moved directly onto my clit, and I felt like I might come any minute.

“Michael.” I wanted him desperately. I began to pant. A scorching heat coursed through my body.

He stopped and spread my juices over the delicate, sensitive under skin of my pussy lips, gently rubbing up and down my slit with the pads of his fingers, over and over, on either side of my clit, never making contact with it.

“Oh god, Michael. Let me come. Please.” I was begging and couldn’t have cared less. I began to squeeze my legs together more tightly. Being in this position made it easy to do. Release would be only moments away, if he would only touch my clit.

“Keep your legs like that,” he said, but stopped touching me. I breathed rapidly, frantically, as he moved up under my arms and lightly tickled down the sides of my stomach, where my back and stomach connected. I wiggled and laughed a little. It tickled in the most sensual way. He said nothing and found my breasts. “Keep your arms above your head for me. I love when you obey me. I’m impressed that you’re showing a little restraint tonight. Breathe.”

And I was. I was really trying to control my reactions, to be in the moment, to not fall apart at the seams but to absorb his touch fully. He lightly stroked the under part of my breasts, then circled the outer parts of them, ever so slowly, honing in closer and closer to my center, my nipples. I moaned and tried to stick my chest out for his touch.

He took the bait and lightly brushed my nipples with his thumbs. I squirmed. It was impossible not to. He took each nipple between his thumb and pointer finger and used feather-light pinches to tease me. My pussy ached and pulsed with need. I begged, “Michael. Please.” But I kept my hands above my head and my legs in the air, trying to do as he asked.

He smiled down at me before moving back to lick my pussy. I moaned. “Yes, Michael, oh please.”

His licks became more intense, more focused on making me come. “Oh Natalie,” he whispered. “I do love to hear you. It’s such a turn-on when you lose control to me, when you beg me.”

He took first one finger and then a second and thrust them into me, and I yelped out, ready to come. I was panting. I was borderline hysterical with need.

He stopped and said tenderly, “You can lower your arms and legs now.”

I looked into his eyes. He had promised to make me come the next chance we got. Those were his exact words. I looked at him pleadingly. I was becoming confused. I was losing all control. I felt tears building.

“No worries, Natalie. I promise. You know I am a man of my word.” He winked. “Patience. I love seeing you like this. I love making you feel like this. I can’t help it.”

He grabbed my face between his hands and slowly, deeply, intensely kissed me. I ravaged his tongue, his mouth, I sucked his lips one at a time, his teeth, and I wrapped my arms around his neck as tightly as possible. He took my face between his hands again and looked into my eyes. “Get on your knees, Natalie.” He smiled, and I complied willingly.

AmazonLink

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Fall, Natalie’s Edge Book 2
Synopsis:

As Shakespeare wrote, “The course of true love never did run smooth,” and the love between Michael L. Black and Natalie Smith is no exception.

Having fallen deeply in love with one another, Michael and Natalie’s passionate and, at times, tumultuous relationship continues to teeter on the edge of happiness as they explore their deepest and sometimes darkest desires of games, bondage, and sex. Michael’s dominant tendencies thrive as Natalie craves to submit her body and mind to him, bringing her to sometimes excruciating pleasure. Love never felt so right.

But their relationship will be tested. Truths are hidden. Secrets are revealed. And when Michael’s insecurities inflame his penchant for control and punishment, all the trust and love they have worked so hard to build dismantles itself within one split second. Will they forgive and trust one another again? Or will the betrayal leave them on the edge of devastation?

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Excerpt From Natalie’s Edge 2: Fall

He pushed me away slightly and took my hand and brought me into the suite overlooking Boston. The view was beautiful as the sun finished setting behind the postcard-picture buildings. He placed me on the bed and began to kiss me between his short, breathless sentences. “I missed you too. My trip couldn’t have gone better. I want you naked. Now.”

I lost my steady breathing to sporadic breaths. “Michael, I don’t have time. I have to get ready. I need to dress for the party…unless…unless…you’d like to skip the party?” I asked with a hopeful innuendo in my voice.

“You come here late. You’re not ready. Now you want to argue with me?” He seemed angry yet playful. A deadly combination. “Don’t make me more disappointed than I already am.”

He began by first removing my black ballet flats, kissing my feet as I moaned.

“No time, Natalie?” he quizzed, looking up into my flushed face. “Mmmm. I have missed that moan.”

I breathed far too erratically. “Plenty of time, if you don’t mind being late to your party,” I managed, as he unbuttoned my jeans, pulled down my zipper, and yanked them off roughly.

“Oh, plenty of time, yes, Natalie. But we will not be late…” Oh no. I knew that inflection, that smirk.

“Aaah,” I groaned, my panties completely thrown to the side of the bed.

“Spread your legs for me, Natalie.” His eyes were that dark, sexy, sinister shade.

“Michael.” I shook quietly spreading my legs.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, slowly, delectably kissing my inner thighs and running his tongue in circles on my clit, lapping at me leisurely, torturously.

“I’ve missed you, Michael.” I panted, barely able to catch my breath and thrust my fingers in his hair again, trying to push my pussy up into his mouth. I was so wet, too wet.

“I can see that.” He smiled up at me, straddling me to remove my t-shirt. “Cute t-shirt.” He stared at me, leaving me lying on the bed in only my pink lace half-cami bra. I knew what he was about to do. I struggled to remain calm, still.

His fingers started on my sensitive, erect nipples, as I brought my legs together and his face to mine, kissing him passionately, moaning, diving my tongue into his mouth aggressively, tasting my juices on his tongue.

“Slow down.” He laughed. “So eager for someone who couldn’t find the time to see me earlier today,” he said sarcastically. “On your belly,” he ordered.

I complied. Before I knew what was happening, he handcuffed my hands behind me and swiftly turned me back over onto my back.

He began to tease my overly sensitive nipples as I squirmed beneath him. He sat on my pelvis. “Spread your legs, Natalie,” he ordered again. I paused, unable to pry my legs open. A climax was building inside of me. Jesus. How was that even possible?

“Michael.” I moaned. “Fuck me.”

“Natalie. That moan. What it does to me.” He was so intense. “Now how can I fuck you if you don’t spread your legs?” And I knew that tone all too well. I knew he was teasing me and I wondered what he was planning.

I squirmed unsuccessfully and let out an agonizing breath, opening my legs, but he didn’t stop tickling my nipples through the lace material that intensified the sensation.

He thrust his knee between my legs, forcing them to stay open, as the rest of his body’s weight held me captive, helpless, and vulnerable under his touch. “Do you like this, Natalie?” he coaxed, using his knee to not only prevent me from squeezing out an orgasm but also to stimulate my clitoris ever-so-lightly.

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t concentrate to answer him.

“Answer me. Do you like this?”

“Yes.” I confessed.

“Good.” He kissed me passionately, moving his knee out of the way to stroke between the wet folds of my pussy, brushing my clit ever so lightly, so that I whimpered.

At least five long excruciating minutes went by as he tormented me with languid teasing.

“Please,” I begged.

He just smiled cruelly into my eyes. He was going to tease me, and I was going to remain helpless.

“You are so wet,” he teased. “If only you had come earlier. Now there’s no time to come.” He emphasized the last word. “What a shame.”

“Michael…”

When he released me, I was delirious, panting heavily. He said, casually, “Now go get ready. We’re going to be late. I don’t do late.” And he undid my handcuffs, taking them with him as he stood up.

The minute he removed them from my wrists, I realized how much I wanted them back. I was insane with lust, and it made me incensed, enraged. How dare he? “Michael!” I yelled at him. But he had shut the bathroom door to get ready, throwing me a white, terry cloth robe right before closing it.

I realized I had little time to do my make-up, style my hair, and dress myself, or I might have pleasured myself just to spite him. I decided to do my make-up and hair first. Dressing in this heated, soaked condition would not be a good idea. When I heard the bathroom door open, I said angrily, sarcastically, not even bothering to look up, “Such a gentleman to let a woman use the bathroom first.”

When I turned around, he grabbed my chin to look into his eyes, and I melted. All I saw were his overbearing, piercing blue eyes through his mask. I knew I should still be angry with him and his childish behavior, but he was so fucking sexy. I wilted and lightly touched his lips through the black material. His chest was muscular as it was, but in his costume, he looked even more so, impenetrable, masculine, in control. I wanted to fuck him more now than I did earlier. “Hello, Batman,” I purred up into his face.

He licked my upper lip and then my lower lip, as I felt my head hang back in total submission to his cupped, strong hands. All anger I had felt toward him evaporated and I drew myself against him. He was being a childish brat, but I missed him too much to care.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” He stopped his delicious invasion of my mouth and stared down at me. I was a dripping pool of desire and his persona only enlarged it.

“Because someone rudely took over the bathroom,” I barked and began walking into the bathroom. I gave pause. It was time for me to win a game or two with this controlling, irresistible man.

I stopped and placed my costume down onto the bed that he had just used to tease me. Turning my back to Batman, I slowly let my robe fall to my feet. I heard him gasp, and I could feel his stare blazing right through my back side. I almost lost my courage and trembled at what he must have been thinking, but I continued my show.

I stayed facing away from him, more so that I didn’t lose my nerve. I unclasped the little lace that covered my breasts and tossed it onto the bed. I bent the upper half of my body over the bed so that my ass hung in the air in front of him, slowly put on my sexy white lace hip-hugger undies, and retrieved my costume. I opened the package of my new pink tights and turned around to sit on the bed. I didn’t dare look into his eyes. He could have done anything he wanted to me and I knew I would let him. I needed to stay focused on teasing him, for a change. Focused on pretending I was the one in control.

I spread my legs slightly and snuck a glance in his direction. His mouth, under his superhero mask, was slightly open, incredulity evident in his eyes. I first lifted the right foot, pointed it straight up into the air, and peeled the first leg of the tight up to my knee. I repeated the process on the left foot, stood up, turned back around, and bent over, exposing my lace-covered ass as I gingerly and slowly folded the tights up over the cheeks of my ass.

I felt him move behind me, and I withdrew a breath, shocked and nervous my seduction would be taken over by him. In truth, I hoped it would. Having him in me would be delicious. He kissed my neck, fully exposed from the tight bun I had twisted atop my head, and whispered, “Games, Natalie? Are you sure you want to go down that road?”

The bastard. His voice undid me as my body quivered, causing him to chuckle and take a seat across the room to finish watching the silly girl put on her costume. I was flushed, hot, and longing.

I tried to regain confidence, trying to ignore the gaping stain of my arousal on my tights between my legs. I exhaled shakily and continued to dress myself under his watchful, slightly intimidating stare. I could see his cocky grin, which only forced more juice to drip out of me. His arrogance was such a turn on for me.

As I put on the pink leotard adorned with feathers around the collar that rose up into my neck, I noticed him shift in his chair, cockiness turning into desire. Yes. I thought to myself. I’m back in the game.

I looked down to my chest, ensuring the crystals were properly placed above my breasts under the white and silver feathers, but all I could see were my engorged nipples, begging to be touched and fondled.

A red rush of embarrassment engulfed me as I realized that the top had never been allowed to sit so firmly against my flesh. I had always been wrapped. It was borderline transparent. I blushed. If I wore the cami, it would show through and completely ruin the costume. Nope. He would have to stare at my swollen breasts all night, but so would everyone else. I flushed, embarrassed at my oversight.

I finished with a short pink pancake skirt, put a feather collar around my neck with matching feather cuffs—how ironic—and sat to lace up my pointe shoes. I felt special, beautiful, sexy. I felt like dancing. I only wore my pointe shoes occasionally at my summer camp to show the young girls. Wearing them made me feel a little too nostalgic.

“Ready,” I announced, standing on my tippy toes, then balancing on one toe as I dipped down to the floor, my right hand touching his foot, my left leg and arm straight out into the air.

He stared at me, stood up, and bending down to grab my chin he said, “I don’t think I want to let you out of this room. My god, Natalie, you have literally taken my breath away. God. Your legs.”

I froze, feeling guilty about the way I had just acted, and pushed my feet back into a flat position. Shyly I replied, “Thank you,” and did a small curtsey. I shrank at his sweetness. “The same could be said of you,” I added.

“Yes. Touché, Natalie.” But his tenderness was quickly replaced with a glare. “Beauty in every way aside, we are late, you are a tease, and you will pay on all counts. Come. Let’s go.” His dark side was back in full force, and somehow it made everything inside me tighten.

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Redemption, Natalie’s Edge Book 3
Synopsis:

The road to love for Michael and Natalie has been a treacherous one. Lies and secrets have kept them apart and in darkness. But out of the darkness shines a light on understanding, self-discovery, and forgiveness. Natalie’s sexual awakening teeters on the edge of completion as she and Michael come to fully embrace and understand the bond they truly share.

But their undeniable bond will not come without more tests. Nothing is easy. And nothing seems to be working in their favor. When a secret is revealed that even Michael doesn’t know existed, it seems fate is out of their hands. All of the peace and self-acceptance they have worked so hard towards leaves them right back to the edge of darkness again. Can they find redemption together, or are they doomed to live a life apart forever?

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Excerpt From Natalie’s Edge 3: Redemption

He made his way back over to the bed and pulled all the covers off of me, exposing my body, which revealed my erect nipples through the sheerness of my lace bra. Just his mere proximity excited me. I shivered.

“Are you cold?” he asked facetiously. My apartment was warm, the heat paid for by the landlord.

“Slightly,” I said in the same tone back to him.

“Hmmm. Let me see then. Let me warm you.” He sat back down on the bed and took my coffee mug and placed it on the floor.

“Lie back,” he ordered. “Let’s see if I can’t make you warm again.”

“Michael,” I whined.

“Ssssh. Not a word, Natalie. Let me make you feel good. I owe you that. I hate to see you cry, especially over me.”

“I… I… have to get ready for work.”

“Not yet,” and he pulled out one of my scarves. “Wrists.”

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

“Michael…”

“Trust me. You need this.”

I squirmed and shook my head, no, but oh how I wanted to say yes.

“Wrists, Natalie.”

I closed my eyes shut and held them out in front of me.

“No. On your belly.”

I flipped over and extended my arms back to him. He tied my wrists together tightly with the scarf. My breathing hitched and my pussy became moist almost immediately. He flipped me back over and kissed me.

I involuntarily moaned and he smiled. “Yes. Just the way I like you. Moaning and wet. I’m going to kiss and suck you to orgasm, Natalie. I want all your worries to wash away.”

I arched my back up and squeezed my legs together. “Michael.”

“Yes, baby. But lie back down. This is going to take a while.”

Oh god.

“Only think about every kiss. Every touch. Every suck and what it’s doing to your body. Like a form of meditation. Block out every worry. Every fear. And focus on that one spot of desire and the need that I’m going to create in it. A craving so strong. An almost cruel itch that only I can scratch. Focus on that ache. And only that. Let it build to an unbearable need so strong you almost can’t take it. But take it you will. And then… focus on the pleasure. Only that. That release I’m going to bring you.”

I couldn’t think as he began to remove my panties, drenched already with arousal and anticipation. He pulled them down to my knees, then holding my gaze steady, he began to kiss between my legs, blowing hot air on my pussy. His tongue found its way between my folds almost immediately and again, I arched my back up.

“Down, baby,” he ordered gently and I complied.

His tongue danced around my clit as I moaned and writhed to get closer and he stopped, licking his lips and staring at me. “Focus on the feeling. Absorb it.”

My eyes rolled into the back of my head and his tongue began a leisurely lick up and down my swollen clit and I groaned deep and loud, causing him to chuckle. “My itch. And only I can scratch it. And it’s going to be a while before I do.”

“Michael,” I breathed, panting. “Please.”

His eyes taunted me as he got up and made his way up my body. Licking. Biting, Nipping. Sucking. I squirmed and moaned and begged.

He kissed me and I could taste my juices on my tongue. “Do you like the way you taste on my lips?”

I flushed, embarrassed.

“It’s okay to admit.” He unsnapped my bra from its front clasp and I gasped as my breasts broke free from the tight confinement. “Mmmm. Beautiful.”

He rolled me over on my side to face him and positioned his face against one nipple. A hand found my other nipple and I yelped out. It was so sensitive. So alert. So in need of his touch. “Michael,” I moaned again as he put the other nipple in his mouth. His tongue snuck out and began to lick the tip of it in earnest. “Oh, Michael!” It felt so good.

One hand held the lower part of my back to push my body against his as his tongue danced over my nipple. Using the fingers of his other hand, he pulled, pinched, and tickled my other nipple. I became delirious from the attention given to my nipples, yelling out his name, begging for mercy, pleading for more.

“Mmmm,” was all he said. “Mine.”

“Yes. Yours,” I admitted.

He switched sides, licking the tip of my other nipple, which he had made beautifully tender and sensitive from his pinching and fondling, and pulled and twisted the other. It was almost unbearable, the need between my legs flaming, pulsing, begging for attention.

“Please,” I begged. I couldn’t help it.

“Yes. Natalie. In due time. Are you warming up?” he said between licks and pinches. “I love your sensitivity. It’s been too long since I’ve given them the proper attention.”

“Michael! Please.”

“Answer the question. Are you warmer?”

“Yes,” I panted. “Too warm.”

“I’ll decide when you’re too warm. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I said, just barely.

“Yes…”

“Yes, Sir,” I said without flinching at all.

He smiled. “Mmmm. I like the sound of that.” He licked his lips. “And I’ll see right now if you’re too warm.”

He brought his mouth down my body as he pushed me onto my back again. He kissed and licked down my belly as I squirmed and writhed, anticipating how good it would feel when his lips and tongue found and relieved the ache between my legs.

“Yes. Please.”

He pushed my legs open and thrust two fingers into my wet hole and pumped hard and fast.

“Oh my god!”

“My itch to scratch,” he said, pausing to curl his fingers to find my g-spot. My toes curled as I felt an impending orgasm on me. “Itchy, baby?” he taunted.

“Yes! Yes. Please.”

“Not yet. I haven’t given you permission. I’m not done with you. Not quite warm enough for me yet.”

I felt those familiar tears overwhelming me again. The pain. The pleasure. The emotional turmoil and carnal lust I felt for him. I both loved and feared the reckless abandonment of giving up control to him. His dominance. I trembled.

“Ssssh. I’ve got you. I promise. Breathe… and trust me.”

He kissed my inner thighs as I moaned. His thumb lightly grazed my clit, up and down, leisurely, slowly, as his kisses tickled up and down my thighs, occasionally moving up to kiss the wetness of the lips between my legs. I didn’t think I could take much more.

“Michael. Please. I can’t take anymore.”

“Yes. You can. You don’t have a choice. You. Are. Mine. And I know you like it. So enjoy it and put away your guilt.”

He continued his torture upon my searing body, every nerve ending, every fiber attuned to his touch. His hands made their way back up my body, tickling lightly as he went, playing with the soft skin under my breasts. Finding my nipples, he pinched them, causing me to yelp out as his tongue licked strong and fast against my clit.

“I’m going to cum, Michael. I am. It’s coming. May I please cum?”

But he wouldn’t answer me. He licked my clit and darted his tongue into my wet hole as his fingers pulled and twisted my nipples. I was in pure ecstasy as the wave of orgasm began its point of no return.

I could feel his mouth smiling between my legs as he relentlessly licked and probed with his masterful tongue. He paused, “Not yet.”

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Author Bio

R.B. O’Brien has always been drawn to the more taboo side of storytelling, even as a young adult, from hiding books from strict Catholic parents as a teen to getting lost in the erotic sections of bookstores for hours. As a writer, O’Brien explores the darker, erotic nature of relationships, those riddled with the reality of insecurities and human folly, exposing the vulnerability, emotional turmoil, and occasional pain that can come from losing oneself in the heat of passion.

O’Brien holds a degree in English literature and happily resides in the Northeast of the United States. Her first series, the highly acclaimed Natalie’s Edge trilogy, is now available in ebook format and print. THORNE, O’Brien’s anticipated dark romance series, begins with Rose’s Dark Contract, a tale where things are not what they seem.

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Release Day Blitz ♥ Endless Obsession by: Alex Grayson!

 

IT’S LIVE!

Official Blurb:
I’ve silently watched her for a year, staying hidden in the shadows, biding my time.
She may know me as two different men, but she doesn’t have a clue what I’ve done.
She unknowingly became mine the minute my eyes touched her beauty.
But I’ve done things. Things she may not be able to forgive.
I know all her secrets, her habits, her preferred coffee, what she does in her spare time, her favorite lingerie brand, even that she sleeps naked.
At night, I watch her from her window. During the day, I watch her from my computer. She innocently bares her heart and body to me, and I soak up every single fucking second.

I’ve stayed away, but I’m tired of watching from afar. It’s time Poppy finds out just who I am and what I’m willing to do to take what’s mine. She may hate me when she finds out what I’ve done, but she has no choice but to accept it.

 

She will be my wife.

She will mother my children.

I will claim every part of her heart, body, and soul.

Anything else is unacceptable.

Poppy Lexington has become my endless obsession. I will become her uncontrollable addiction.

 

Unknown: Have you enjoyed the flowers I’ve sent you?
I freeze, except for my eyes, which pop open wide in shock. My breath gets caught in my throat when I realize this must be my mystery flower guy.

Holy hell! It’s him!

Why in the world is he texting me? After all this time, why contact me now? And what in the hell do I say to him? It’s become a routine. I’ve gotten used to getting the roses and not knowing who they are from. Question after question runs through my mind. Who is he? Why send me flowers? Why not introduce himself? Where did he first see me? How did he find out where I worked? And how in the hell did he get my number?
That’s my number one question, so I ask him.
Me: How did you get my number?
It only takes seconds for me to receive a reply, and I’m not sure how to take it.
Unknown: I have my ways. You didn’t answer my question.
He has his ways? What is that supposed to mean? My chest tightens with fear at his answer. I push back the fear and ask another question I’m dying to know.
Me: They’re beautiful, thank you. Who are you?

Unknown: You’ll find out soon enough.

 

Umm… say what? Another question avoided. My eyes narrow in suspicion.

Me: I’m not sure I like that answer. I have no idea who you are. What if I don’t want to know you once I find out?

 

I notice the time on my phone and pull the second thigh-high up my leg, keeping my eyes on the screen the entire time. This is really weird, him having my number. I’m sure it’s not too hard to get the information, but it’s the point that he went through the trouble to get it. I hate being left in the dark like this.

 

My phone dings again, and I quickly grab it.

 

Unknown: You’ll want to know me. Trust me.

Trust him? That’s laughable. How can he think I’ll trust him when I have no idea who he is?

 

Me: It’s hard to trust someone I don’t know.

 

I slip my feet in my heels as I wait for him to reply. It’s doesn’t take long.

 

Unknown: You’ll learn.

Unsure of how to respond to that, I walk back to the kitchen to get a travel mug of coffee ready. He seems so confident, and cocky. Maybe a little too much, since it’s coming from a total stranger. How can he be so sure?

 

I type out my original question again.
Me: Who are you?
Unknown: Soon…

I grip my phone in frustration. Now that he’s contacted me, the need to know who sends me roses every week is overwhelming. It’s no longer a curiosity—I need to know. I should be more afraid, but I’m not, and that gives me pause. Why am I not more fearful? He’s obviously hiding something, right? But what?

He sends another text before I get a chance to reply.
Unknown: Have a good day at work, Beautiful.
What? That’s it? He has flowers delivered to me every week for eight months, messages me out of the blue with cryptic messages, then wishes me a good day at work? Pissed off vibes has my gut clenching. How dare he contact me and leave me hanging.
Me: That’s it? That’s all I get out of you?
I flip the off switch on the coffee pot, grab my now full travel mug, my purse, and with phone still in hand, I leave my house, locking it up behind me.

I’m buckling my seatbelt when he replies.

Unknown: For now, yes.

Oh no, that doesn’t work for me. He needs to give me something. He can’t just expect me to accept his non-answers.

 

Me: How do you know me? How do you know where I work?
Unknown: I know a lot of things about you, Poppy.
Me: You’re not helping your case of me wanting to know you. It’s freaking me out that you know stuff about me, personal stuff, when I don’t even know your name. That’s not normal. It’s pretty stalkerish, don’t you think?

I notice the time on my phone again and see I have a few minutes before I need to leave, so I decide to wait for his reply.

Unknown: Just call me Mr. A for now. Have a safe trip to work.
Alex Grayson is originally from the south, but has recently moved to Northern Ohio. Although she misses the warmth of Florida and often times detest the cold of Ohio, she absolutely loves living in the north. Her and her husband bought a house on two acres of land and live there with their daughter, son, one dogs, two cats, eight ducks, and three chickens. She hopes to eventually get a couple of goats to add to their country way of living. Besides her family and home, her next best passion is reading. She is often found with her nose obsessively stuck in a book, much to the frustration of her husband and daughter. On more than one occasion Alex found herself wanting a book to go a certain way, but it didn’t. With these thoughts in mind, she decided to start writing stories according to her own visions. Although this is a new endeavor for her, she hopes that readers find her concepts on romance intriguing and captivating. Alex welcomes and encourages feedback, of any kind. She can be contacted at alexgraysonauthor@gmail.com.

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