Guest blog: Aleigha Siron

What’s in a Kiss?

May 18 2016 AleighaSiron kiss_on_the_beach_from_here_to_eternity

Evidently, quite a lot, as discussed in numerous articles in Psychology Today, and Science Daily. Our primate cousins, chimps and bonobos in particular, engage in kissing though not as frequently as humans do. A diverse range of other species, from ants to elephants engages in affectionate kissing, touching, licking, etc.

According to Jennifer Verdolin, PhD, (Psychology Today, May, 2014,) “through saliva, scientists speculate, kisses help us acquire a range of information about a potential mate, including hormone levels, health, and genetic compatibility.”

Who knew? Of course, no one is consciously aware that our kisses evaluate at a chemical level.

Ms. Verdolin’s article, she goes on to say, “And once you kiss, a suite of chemical reactions in the brain and body are activated. Sparks really can fly.”

Yep, we’ve all known those sparks and every kiss after the one that first curled our toes is an exploration to experience that sensation again. Most of us remember the first kiss that created butterflies in our belly or ignited a fire in our loins. Yet, the experts still argue as to exactly why we are so inclined to kiss.

And who can forget the “kiss of death,” delivered by Michael Corleone to his brother, Fredo, when he learns of Fredo’s betrayal? Michael firmly grips Fredo by the neck with both hands, stares him in the eye, applies a hard lip smack, and delivers the infamous line, “I know it was you Fredo, you broke my heart. You broke my heart.” Bye, bye, Fredo.


Aleigha Siron, author of “Finding My Highlander”

Studies indicate women put more stock in kissing than men. For men, it’s a prelude to their primary interest, sex. That’s also true for women, but these studies go on to assert that women enjoy more kissing during the sexual act. Men, on the other hand, acquiesce to kissing during sex primarily to keep their partner involved. Unless, it’s kissing of a more sensual nature, such as licking, biting, tasting those forbidden areas. Are we surprised? No.

I don’t think people question or care why we do or do not enjoy another’s kisses. Those lip smacking, tongue-probing episodes are a means to determine whether we want to engage in further sexual exploration with a person.

Every romance story ever written plays upon the sexual tension preceding that first kiss between characters, or the second, not to mention all the kisses and touching that follows. The location of that kiss is equally important. A kiss on the top of a gloved hand is formal, and not very titillating even in the Regency era. However, a kiss to the inside of a bare wrist, to the pulse beat in the throat, to the pulse beat behind the knee, or at the top of the thigh. To touch, kiss, nip, or lick the places where blood rushes through our veins as arousal heightens—those kisses are hot.


In Chapter Six of Finding My Highlander, Andra and Kendrick share their first kiss: “She lifted her face to his in defiance, fire meeting fire; a conflagration exploded between them. She would not be cowed and stood her ground, trying desperately to conceal her trembling. Before either of them turned away his hand moved to the back of her head, his lips crushed onto hers, his tongue probed her mouth and God help her, she returned his kiss with her own ferocity as he pulled her more tightly against the hard planes of his chest.” Yep, sparks! Enjoy all those heated kisses.

There are dozens of songs about kissing: the first kiss, passionate kisses, forbidden kisses, etc. For your listening enjoyment, I’ve included a few links to popular kiss songs.

Toby Keith:



Chris Brown:

Faith Hill:



“Lass, can I help you?” His voice was softer than the others, his stance relaxed, composed, despite the dirt and blood splattered over his massive arms and clothing. He seemed to be a quiet, gentle man, though physically as imposing as the others.

“You could bring me my bag.”
He moved his hand from behind him and cautiously extended her mother’s old carpetbag. “Do I need to check it for weapons?” A slight crinkle lifted the corner of his mouth. A piece of leather cord tied wavy, light-brown hair at the nape of his neck and tight braids spilled alongside sharp, scruffy cheeks. His eyes were dark and shadowed.
“Thank you…it’s Rabbie, correct?”
“Aye,” he nodded.
Andra granted him a guarded smile. “I’ll pull no further weapons if you promise to be kind.” The slight attempt at humor from both of them eased the tension coiled in her gut.
He swept an arm gracefully in front of him and bowed, “Always, m’lady, as I learned at me mother’s knee.” Then he left her to tend the horses.
She searched her bag for the washcloth, hand towel, and first aid kit she always carried when traveling. The washcloth came to hand first. She dipped it into the cold water and wiped the dried and clotted blood from her face and hair. Then she dunked her head in the pool several more times.
“I seem to be awake,” she whispered, just for the comfort on her own voice. “My surroundings feel solid enough,” she pounded her fist on the dirt, “so it must be real. Accept it, Andra, and decide what to do next.”
She could hear the men speaking Gaelic, hushed yet clearly distraught about the condition of their clansman. They gathered near another pool of water several yards from where she knelt. She watched them over her shoulder for a few minutes struggling to fit the scene into her new reality. A million questions rose in her throat.
“Not now. Patience and observation are what’s required. All will be revealed in time.” What a stupid cliché.
Should she offer her help with their friend; would they accept it? She could not sit here and do nothing when one of them was seriously injured. Besides, anxiety always spurred her to take action. Her father had always said, “Move, keep busy, and don’t let dust gather under your feet.” With her father’s words ringing in her ears, she approached the men cautiously, keeping her eye on the mean one, Struan.
“May I be of assistance?” She stood with her feet firmly planted on the hard-packed, dirt floor, her head held high, one hand pressed flat against her side, the other rested on the cross dangling on her chest. It took an extreme effort to control her trembling body. Her palms moistened with sweat. She steadied her focus on Kendrick. His strong hands moved carefully over his brother’s body. The mean one harrumphed and growled.
A growl? Really?
Kendrick looked up, concern etched on his face. His dark, probing eyes bore through her. “Are you a healer, then?” he asked.
“Not a healer exactly, but I have cared for ill and injured persons and have some training in first aid. I wish to help if you’ll permit me.”
“I dinnae ken your meaning. What’s the first aid of which you speak? As you can see, we give him aid, but if you can do anything to help save my brother’s life, I will gladly accept your offer.”
The mean one growled again. “Don’t trust her, she’s the enemy and will just as soon slit his throat.”
Ignoring the slur, she continued, “Have you determined the extent of his injuries?”
“Aye, his shoulder is dislocated, several fingers broken, which we have straightened and bound as best we’re able. We need to stitch multiple, deep wounds, and he’s lost a lot of blood, though blood no longer flows freely.”
The injured man lay on a plaid, stripped completely naked, his kilt torn away from his battered body. Mud, blood, and all manner of vile debris caked the hard planes of his bronzed chest. Andra couldn’t identify the severity or location of all his injuries. He moaned but appeared unconscious, or so she assumed, since he hadn’t opened his eyes. Clumps of dried blood crusted over wounds on one leg and foot. Dark, matted refuse covered the entire other leg.
His manhood lay flaccid against his thigh, and none of the men seemed concerned about his state of undress in front of a strange female. She stood quietly, waiting for several breaths.

On a windswept cliff above San Francisco Bay in 2013, 27 year-old Andra Cameron, the last member of her family, prepares to scatter her family’s ashes to the wind. An earthquake catapults her to the Scottish Highlands in 1705. She wakes, aching and bloody, to the sound of horses thundering through the trees. Terrified and with no other options, Andra accompanies these rugged warriors. She can’t deny the undeniable attraction that ignites between herself and the handsome but gruff Kendrick. Will she trust him to provide protection in the harsh reality of 18th century Scotland and with her secret, or will she find a way to return home to the 21st century?
Laird Kendrick MacLean and his men, escaping a recent skirmish with their worst nemeses, clan Cameron and their Sassenach allies, are shocked to find an injured, unprotected female in their path. How could she not know her kin and how had she landed in the middle of the wilderness alone? His men suspect she’s a spy or a witch. Still, Kendrick will not abandon an injured woman, even if she speaks unusually accented English, and her name is Cameron. Will he ransom her to others or will their closed hearts open to each other? Although he questions her every utterance, this feisty, outspoken woman inflames his desire like no other.

Buy Links

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Author Bio and Media Links
After more than twenty years writing and delivering management and other training programs for modest-sized to Fortune Five Hundred companies, and ten years developing community crisis-intervention training programs, Aleigha turned her writing efforts to her first loves, fiction, and poetry. Her poetry has appeared in numerous anthologies and university presses over the past few decades. Following a difficult period in her life, she discovered solace in romance novels that inspired her to write in this genre. As she says, “who doesn’t desire a guaranteed happy-ever-after scenario?” Always interested in the concept of time-travel, she knew her first few stories would follow that theme.

When not writing, her trusty four-legged companion/helper, Strider, accompanies her on sunset walks along the shore. During these quiet walks under an expansive sky, with the whoosh of waves across the sand and her gaze drifting over the rolling sea, her best glimmers of inspiration come to mind. Following the recent discovery of distant Scottish ancestors, she embarked on a trip to the Highlands. Although she had already developed the characters for Finding My Highlander, her trip to the Highlands enriched the characters and enhanced the story direction. This is her first full-length romance novel. Aleigha is working on a prequel to Finding My Highlander, and another time-travel novel set in a later period.
WWW (Aleigha’s WebPage)

Aleigha Siron’s Book page at Tirgearr Publishing

Tirgearr Publishing Home Page



Make sure to follow the whole tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter the giveaway. The tour dates are here:



Smut by the Sea 2016 Author and Reader event Sponsored by Godemiche


Are you going to Scarborough Fair?


Smut Events are fun, safe, inclusive days out when our community of erotica writers, sex bloggers. talented performers, readers, geeks & those that love them get together to socialize, exchange ideas and inspire one another. Smut by the sea 2016 is the fourth event to be held at Scarborough Library and this year it is on Saturday 28th May from 10am -5pm.

On the day there will be a host of fun, smutty things to enjoy including interactive workshops, reading slams, a brand new incarnation known as Dr Scribbly and much, much more. You even get your buffet lunch thrown in for free!

In the erotic marketplace you’ll be able to meet event sponsors Godemiche and get to grips with their amazing handmade silicone dildos, have a go on the world famous erotic tombola and win sex toys galore, check out and treat yourself or pick up a book from the book stall and get your copy signed by the attending authors.

Tickets are now available from just £12 (excluding paypal charges) and there are a few limited author and promo tickets left for those who want to bring their books and promotional items on the day. Pick up your ticket at Eventbrite now or if you’d like to arrange an alternative way to pay other than paypal contact Victoria Blisse at victoria @ victoriablisse. co. uk (no spaces). As Host with the most she will be able to answer all your questions too.


10:00am – DOORS OPEN    

10:15am – Introduction from Victoria Blisse – Welcome to our fourth annual Smut by the Sea event!

10:20am – Reading Slam #1 – Featuring: Victoria Blisse, Anna Sky, Slave Nano, Kev Blisse

11am – Morning Break

11:15am – Jennifer Denys presents “Sex in sci fi stories” – Jennifer Denys has written several sci-fi erotic romances and in the process had to research a weightless sex scene – have any astronauts ‘done it’? Come to Jen’s workshop and find out! The session will briefly cover the history of sexuality in sci-fi literature, look at modern depictions and you will get a chance to come up with your own ideas for sex scenes in the future (we want some really fun, innovative ideas!)

12noon –  LUNCH!!!

1pm – Anna Sky from Sexy Little Pages presents “Shortcuts to Self-Publishing”– Anna will take you on a whistle-stop tour on how to get more out of your publishing. Find out how to reach more sales platforms with little extra effort, how to use free services to help readers find you more easily and tips and tricks for spreading your new releases further afield.

1:45pm – Check out the Erotic Market Break

2pm – Reading Slam #2– Featuring: K D Grace, Charlie J Forrest, Dylan McEwan, Jennifer Denys

2:45pm – Bing-Oh-Behave! Eyes down on those lovely legs elevens for a game of purple prose bingo!

3pm – Janine Ashbless presents “Writing Fantasy Erotica” – So you want to write a fantasy, fairy tale, SF or paranormal erotic story … but you don’t know where to start? You’re wondering where to find fresh ideas? This interactive workshop with Janine Ashbless focuses on where to find your inspiration, and how to turn centuries-old plots into startling new stories.

3:45pm – Afternoon Tea Break

4pm – Dr. Scribbly with performer Bea Noir – You get to watch amazing performances designed to inspire you on the spot. Then you have a certain amount of time to write something about the performance. Anything you like, a poem, a flash fiction, or even simply a description of what you saw. Its totally upto you, no boxes, no cages, just your words. There will be fun competitions to take part in and opportunities to win fabulous prizes.

5pm So long, and thanks for all the Smut! – Another seaside adventure draws to a close, as we say our goodbyes for another year xxx

5:30pm –  DOORS CLOSE


A Day In The Life (updated)


A few years ago, when I first started blogging, I was inspired to write a “Day in the Life” blog, giving an insight into what my day entailed. Since writing that, it’s changed dramatically – my children are older, I have more than one book published, and I am no longer freelance writing for websites and magazines. So I thought I’d do an updated version, and try to see if I can spot the reason why I’m so damn tired all the time! WARNING – LONG POST.

6.00 a.m. – Possibly earlier, depending on what day it is, boy-child has come into my bedroom and woken me up. I tell him to go back to bed, it’s too damn early!


6.05 a.m. – Boy-child has come back into my room and is now demanding breakfast. GO BACK TO BED!

6.15 a.m. – Fine. If you won’t go back to bed, go and brush your teeth and start getting ready for school.

6.25 a.m. – JUST GO AND START GETTING READY! LEAVE ME ALONE! I prod Hubby in the ribs and tell him to deal with it. Check emails and Facebook. No lottery win means we both need to start thinking about getting ready for work.

6.45 a.m. – Roll out of bed to find pants / socks / T-shirt / shorts / toothpaste / toilet roll / whatever it is that boy-child has lost this morning.

7.00 a.m. – Alarm has finally gone off, and I can no longer ignore the fact that it is time to get up. Hubby prods me in the ribs and accuses me of being lazy. I give him the finger. The dog and three cats jump up onto the bed, two, three or all of them start fighting, using my dead body as a barrier.

7.10 a.m. – I’m up and trying to figure out what day it is. Can I be bothered to have a shower, put on make up and brush my hair? Can I f***. Pull on whatever clothes appear to be the cleanest and go to the bathroom to at least brush my teeth.

7.20 a.m. – Girl-child starts complaining. She doesn’t want to get up. She wants to stay in bed because her brother / hamster / the cat has kept her awake most of the night. If I have to get up, you have to get up. GET UP.

7.30 a.m. – After ten minutes of arguing, girl-child is now up but hates me and is never speaking to me again. Fine. I can deal with that. Just brush your teeth. I go down stairs. Hubby has started making sandwiches.

7.45 a.m.  – JUST GET DOWNSTAIRS AND HAVE YOUR BREAKFAST! Girl-child still hates me. Cereal / toast made, and boy-child is having his fill. Tag-teaming with Hubby means lunch boxes are made. No, I don’t know where your tie is. No, I don’t know where girl-child’s knickers are, why isn’t she dressed yet? No boy-child, you may not play on your tablet, you can eat your breakfast AND FIND YOUR OTHER SOCK! Stick the kettle on.

7.50 a.m. – Hubby is out the door, girl-child is downstairs eating her breakfast, but sulking about it. Shit. Drinks. Where are your drinks bottles? Well how the hell am I supposed to make you a drink if it’s at school?! Girl-child takes meds reluctantly, complaining about how the drink makes her feel sick because it’s chocolate-flavoured. You chose chocolate flavoured! I offered you plain or orange, you said chocolate. DRINK IT.

8.05 a.m. – Kettle is boiled for the second time. Dishwasher emptied and re-filled with breakfast pots. Girl-child get here and let me do your hair. Stop complaining, you wanted long hair, deal with the knots and agony. It takes pain to be beautiful. Would you prefer me to shave it all off like I do your brother’s?

8.15 a.m. – Girl-child is crying and probably has half her hair missing because of that ruddy great knot in it, despite her having slept in a plait. Go. And. Find. Your. Bleeding. SOCK! Re-boil kettle and actually make a cup of tea. Balance it on the radiator in the living room. Sit down, put the news on.

8.16 a.m. – Shit. Drinks and snacks. Find some scabby bottle at the back of the cupboard. I don’t care if you don’t like orange and mango, it’s that or water. Pull faces behind boy-child’s back as he stomps into the living room. Throw some fruit that hasn’t started to go mouldy into school bags.

8.20 a.m. – Sit down, realise the time and yell at children to feed the animals. I don’t care who feeds whom, just feed them before they eat each other. Get up, find dog and cat food and place it in front of children. Monitor animals whilst they’re eating so the kittens don’t try to eat the older cat’s food and make her more grumpy than she naturally is. Shit. Turtle. Find a strawberry / tomato, chop it up and give it to the turtle.

8.30 a.m. – Where are your bags? Cardigans, jumpers, coats. I don’t care if you’re hot, put it on! No I will not… Okay, fine, I will carry your bags, just find your shoes. WHY HAVEN’T YOU GOT ANY SOCKS ON?!

8.35 a.m. – Find scooters / bikes, argue with children about helmets and give them the same story about people who die when they don’t wear protection that they heard yesterday. Leave the house. Where’s my phone?! Turn TV off.

8.40 a.m. – NOW we can leave the house. Smile and wave to other parents and pretend that I’m sane as I get my children to school. STOP LOOK AND LISTEN. Why do we have to go through this every single day?! You know how to cross a road, use the brain you were born with.

8.45 a.m. – Gossip in the playground with other mums. Put that stick down. Do not hit your brother. Stop swinging around and showing your pants off. What is that down your T-shirt?! Lick thumb and clean the tell-tale signs of coco pops from around boy-child’s mouth. Stop squirming, perhaps if you washed your face when I told you… Realise I forgot to remind him to wash his face.

8.50 a.m. – Bell goes, take children to classes. Roll eyes when I realise that I have to talk to boy-child’s teacher because he has a graze on his forehead from where he fell of his bike / scooter on the way to school. Speak to girl-child’s teacher about whatever it is that’s making girl-child grumpy today. Make a mental note to avoid head teacher as I run out the gates so I don’t have to talk about my horrible children, who I swear were swapped at birth.

9.00 a.m. – Home. Grab towel, iPod and water. Go to the gym. Realise that I can’t run and I’m nowhere near as fit as I would like to be. Die.

9.45 a.m. – Home. Jump in the shower. Check Fitbit and become depressed when I realise that all that spent energy has resulted in 2,000 steps and only 8 active minutes. WTF Fitbit?! Pick up bits of rubbish that have been left in the trail of my children and husband and throw them in the bin.

10.15 a.m. – Check emails and Facebook again, share some random crap and like every single post I can see. Stick a load of washing the machine, open the door and let the dog outside because I’m too knackered to walk her.

10.25 a.m. – Why am I so thirsty?! Realise there is a cold cup of tea on the radiator. Make a new one, sit down and have a drink. Turn on laptop, check emails and other Facebook account. Ha-ha, I’m so sneaky. They will never notice that I have two! Oh, I’ve been blocked / removed from a group. Who’s unfriended me?!

10.45 a.m. – Pick up mug and be faced with the ultimate disappointment. Open WIP and stare at screen. Ignore WIP, open up Open Uni website and stare at screen. Ignore Open Uni and pick up a book instead. Words make no sense, switch TV on.


11.00 a.m. – I really should do some revision. Pick up uni book and stare at pages. Cry a little when I realise I don’t understand a single f***ing word. Open Facebook instead and comment on loads of posts. Share a few things, and remember that I was supposed to do some marketing / promotion today.

11.10 a.m. – Good ol’ Canva. Create some new posters. Pick one I like and stick it up in five Facebook groups because that’s the limit before being blocked. Google “free ways to promote my book” and find out there are none. Cry a little and Skype Hubby about how shit life is and why don’t we have any money. Buy a lottery ticket for the next draw.

11.20 a.m. – Suck it up, buttercup. Go down the promotion list and email people who might want to review a book, promote work etc. Check emails to find that nobody has emailed me back from the last time I sent out requests. Check PayPal and cry. Go upstairs and pick up dirty clothes, bits of used tissue (eww), throw bleach down the toilets.

11.45 a.m. – I am so hungry. Make a cup of tea and a bowl of cereal. Go back to laptop, open up WIP and stare at screen. Might write a few words down. Open uni book and stare at pages. Ooh I remembered something! Feel hopeful, then check Open Uni forums and realise that everyone is so much more intelligent than me. I am going to fail. Go back to WIP and write some more words that make no sense. I’ll fix it in editing.

12.15 p.m. – Google “how to sell your book” and realise that there are THOUSANDS of “how to sell your book” books available, and all written by someone I’ve never heard of. Email more marketing / promoting people. Check Facebook. Comment like mad, share, and like posts. Hang washing out, put a second load in, finish cleaning the bathrooms. Sweep kitchen and living room floor.

1.30 p.m. – Shit. Where did that time go?! Watch some TV whilst trying to work on WIP / read uni books. This is not working. FOCUS Charlotte. FOCUS. Skype Hubby about running my own business. Realise I do run my own business, because I have yet to delete RWLS’s website. But nobody’s contacting me so, whatever.

2.00 p.m. – Finished a chapter on WIP. Make a cup of tea and eat some Haribo as a reward. Let dog out. Go upstairs and make beds, open curtains and open windows. If this is what a 7 year old boy’s room smells like now, I’m dreading the teenage years. Make a mental note to leave home when they hit puberty. Realise girl-child is 8 and probably only has a couple of years before she does hit puberty. Cry.

2.15 p.m. – More uni work. Remind myself that I only have a few weeks left and then I’m free! Until October when the next year starts. Contemplate how I would spend my millions if I won the lottery / actually sold a book.

2.30 p.m. – I’ve done 15 minutes of revision. Reward time! Facebook, Twitter, and more Haribo. Take dog for a quick walk because I feel guilty. Avoid eye-contact with other dog walkers so I don’t have to speak to them about the lovely weather we’re having.

3.00 p.m. – Leave to fetch children. Play games on my mobile while I wait. Gossip with mums and moan lots.

3.15 p.m. – Send girl-child back in to school to fetch her cardigan / bag / drinks bottles. Go home. Make cup of tea, leave it on the radiator while I put the second load of washing out. Realise I didn’t get anything out of the freezer for tea. Panic! Skype Hubby – can we warrant a third takeaway this week? Would it really make me an awful mum if the kids had beans on toast again?

3.25 p.m. – Unload dishwasher, put recycling out, put dry clothes that don’t need ironing away. Make a mental note to tell children they are tidying their bedrooms this weekend. Sweep floor, again. Pick up toys that have magically appeared on the living room floor.

4.00 p.m. – Depending what day it is, go back to school to pick other child up from clubs.

4.30 p.m. – Re-boil kettle and make a fresh cup of tea since I caught the cat drinking the cold one. Send children upstairs to get changed and ready for Brownies / Beavers. Skype Hubby – I don’t care about the waistline. We’re having a curry tonight, and gin. Lots of gin. Drink tea. Check emails. Nobody loves me except for all of my rich uncles in Nigeria, but they’re dead now. Drink tea. Eat more Haribo while the kids aren’t looking. Get some fruit if you’re hungry!

5.00 p.m. – Drop boy-child off at after-school club (stay and volunteer on Thursdays & Fridays with girl-child, listen to boy-child moan about how he hates staying and he wants to go play on the park with his friends. He hates me because I won’t let him go anywhere unsupervised, and he’s 7 now so why can’t he, blah blah blah), go home, stick TV on for girl-child, put next load of washing in, sweep floors again, wipe down surfaces.

6.00 p.m. – Fetch child from after-school club (if I haven’t stayed). Rush home, throw some food in the microwave and feed children. Check Facebook, post a few more marketing bits. Another unfriending?! Well screw you… Post rant.

6.20 p.m. – Hubby is home! Yay! He takes over with children, giving them a bath and reading stories. Children tell him how wonderful he is when he says he’s bought them a new DVD / Xbox game / book, and then tell him how awful I am because I haven’t done anything but sit on my bum all day, and all I do is shout at them. Make a cup of tea, sit down and drink it whilst it’s hot.

7.00 p.m. – Dog wants to go out. Open door, let dog out, go upstairs to find out why I can hear shouting. Nobody wants to go to bed. No you can’t play on your tablets, it’s bed time! Go downstairs, feed animals. Bring in dry washing, stick tumble dryer on, empty lunch boxes, school bags, and check for head bump letters. Oh look, one each.

7.30 p.m. – Order takeaway. Sit down, check Facebook and emails. Switch on TV and start catching up on murder-mysteries. Boy-child starts whining because he’s thirsty. Hubby takes drinks upstairs. Girl-child comes downstairs because she forgot her night-time meds again. Give meds. Put kettle on. Send girl-child back to bed, in tears because she really isn’t tired. Read a book then.

8.00 p.m. – Eat takeaway. Disturbed by boy-child who doesn’t like this drink, and girl-child who needs extra meds because she’s in pain / is itchy. Sort children out, let dog out, throw cats out because they keep pouncing on my feet. Watch TV.

9.00 p.m. – Get prodded in the ribs by Hubby because I’ve fallen asleep on the sofa. Listen to Hubby moan about work. Realise that Mount Washmore has grown ever larger because I didn’t do the ironing. Go upstairs to check on children and come down with cat-hair slippers because I didn’t vacuum either. Fill dishwasher and switch it on. Day-dream about making it big and being able to hire a cleaner.

9.30 p.m. – Check Facebook and emails. Nope. Nobody loves me. Ask Hubby to make me a cup of tea. He does it, but moans about having to do everything all the time, and one day I’ll make my own drink.

10.00 p.m – Dammit. I was going to have gin tonight. Well, it’s too late now. Check on children after I hear a banging sound upstairs. Check Facebook and emails. Nope. Still nothing back from reviewers / marketing companies. Check PayPal, and contemplate whether I can warrant forking out $600 to BookBub or if I should just do $15 eBookSoda. Go with neither, because whichever book I’m concentrating on doesn’t meet their requirements. Tell Hubby I’m going to start my own affordable book marketing company, and then he reminds me that I hate marketing, and every day I think of a new company to start. Poke him in the ribs and tell him to stop being mean to me. Open WIP and start writing whilst Hubby plays on XBox / edits photos.

11.30 p.m. – Crawl into bed and fail to get to sleep because there is some drunk idiot having a fight with himself outside our house again.

12.00 a.m. – Finally drop off, and then Hubby joins me and starts snoring. Check on children, because my Mummy-Sense is tingling. They’re fine and I’m being ridiculous. Realise how lucky I am to have such two well-behaved, gorgeous angels for children. Go back to bed and remember I have to do it all over again tomorrow.

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By: Lori King

Rachel Morgan lives every woman’s fantasy with her four cowboy husbands. Each man exemplifies something she’s always wanted in a man, and they treat her like a queen. As they approach their five year wedding anniversary, the guys have asked her what she’d like to do to celebrate, but she’s nervous about telling them the truth. It’s insane to want to be chased again, right?
This is a capture fantasy and explores a man hunting down his woman and ravishing her.



The Beauty and the Badass
By: Lucy Felthouse

From the moment Alexei Miles sets eyes on the kickboxing instructor at his new gym, he’s enthralled. She’s strong and sexy, and he senses something in her that speaks to his deepest desires. Bored of meaningless one-night stands, Alexei vows to find out more about the beautiful badass. He hopes his senses are correct—that her desires will match his own, and that his period of unsatisfying sexual encounters is over.
Zoe Harrison notices the new guy as soon as he walks into the gym—difficult not to, really, given he’s a six-feet-plus gorgeous Viking. As well as being attractive, he awakens something deep inside that she’d almost forgotten about. Men that can handle Zoe’s busy lifestyle are few and far between. Add to that her very specific sexual appetites and it’s little wonder she’s been single for so long. Is the Viking about to change all that?
This story explores corporal punishment in a BDSM setting.


Secrets & Lies
By: Serena Akeroyd

Meg’s love life was missing a spark until she discovered her need to be dominated. When her fiancé shared the same kink, she thought all her birthdays had come at once, and then she came to learn their relationship was one big fat lie.
Gabe has loved Meg for years, watching her from afar, and always wishing he’d been the one to date her first and not his brother. When he has the chance to have Meg in his bed—even better, tied to it—it’s an opportunity he can’t refuse.
With disastrous consequences.
Can Gabe make Meg realize she’s the one woman he’s always wanted? But once secrets and lies have wormed their way into a relationship, is it impossible to establish the firm base of trust needed between lovers, and more importantly, between sub and Sir…?
This story features orgasm control in a BDSM setting.


By: McKinlay Thomson

Elisa is a shy, quiet, bookish woman with one huge problem. She has a crush on the hot Dom living next door and he doesn’t even know she exists.
Alex knows his curvy little neighbor watches him over the fence. He would like nothing more than to bang on her door, drag her back to his place, and show her he has just the right toys to keep them both satisfied well into the night.
When Alex and Elisa finally come together could a threat from his past derail their budding romance or will their desire continue to sizzle.
This story includes impact play in a BDSM setting.



Club Ménage: Fifi
By: Tara Crescent

Something’s wrong at Club Ménage…
After escaping an abusive relationship with her dominant, Fiona Clarke swore off submission for life. But when the private investigator is hired to solve a case of blackmail at the secretive Club Ménage, she finds that she hasn’t managed to leave her past behind.
Adrian Lockart and Brody Payne protected Fiona from her dominant, until the day they disappeared from her life without a trace. When they reunite at Club Ménage, can they convince Fiona to trust them again, and can they protect her from the danger that surrounds them on all sides?
This story explores pet play in a BDSM setting. No actual animals are involved.


Binding Her To Him
(Dupree Investigations)
By: TL Reeve

Kennedy Le Roche, is on a mission.
A new drug has hit the streets of Reserve, Louisiana, and it is claiming victims at an alarming pace. The only clue she has is a BDSM Club on the outskirts of town. As a submissive, she’ll go undercover to ferret out who’s distributing the drug. But, there’s a catch.
Phoenix Dupree, is a police consultant by day and a Dominant by night.
When the police chief shares a case of utmost importance with him, he takes it. What he isn’t expecting is the identity of his submissive for the night, Kennedy Le Roche.
Feelings long since dormant resurface. Can Kennedy and Phoenix work together or will old wound prove to be too deep?
This is a bondage/restraint story and of lost love.



Kaise: A White Card Story
By: Jade Belfry

Will this cold attorney allow the flames of passion to melt her heart of stone? Kaise didn’t want love and certainly didn’t have time for sex. That is, until she loses a major case and her trusted assistant all on the same day. Feeling sorry for herself and fortified by drink, she dials a secret number given to her by a friend. Things heat up when the call connects and she reaches an ultra-exclusive team of sexual trainers that are about to show her everything she never knew that she’s been missing. Including perhaps the old flame she’s never forgotten.
This story features temperature play in a BDSM setting.


Professor Knows Best
By: Juliet Braddock

Professor Justin Langford is on a mission to teach his star student Sloane Bradford a few lessons in her deepest, dirtiest fantasies. However, the last thing he needs is another college girl.
After a miscommunication separates them, fate reunites the reluctant lovers.
From swing sets to sex shops, Justin challenges Sloane to embrace a life filled with sippy-cups and spankings. Sloane has much to learn if she’s still intent on being his prized pupil.
Will Justin manage to control her rising brat enough to transform Sloane into Daddy’s Little Girl?
This story contains elements of age play and Daddy-Daughter roleplay.


By: Jordan Ashley

Heather Ross vowed after a decade of being controlled by her husband that she would never trust her heart with someone again. That is until her best friend moves in to help her through being a single mom. His gentle, playful nature made her remember what she always wanted in a man, waking desires she thought long buried deep in her soul.
Jack Stevens never imagined that moving in with Heather every fantasy and dream he’d concocted to get him through lonely nights would come true. The day Heather confessed her desire for him Jack swore he would use every tool in his arsenal learned as a Dom to help her trust him completely even with his own lingering skeletons.
Can Heather learn to trust Jack when she has been deprived of her true desires for too long?
Grab your tissues and learn to trust again with passionate sensory play.


By: C.P. Mandara

“I am going to break you. That’s the whole purpose of this exercise. From the moment the door inside that room closes, I am not going to be Mr. Nice Guy. I am going to do everything in my power to hear you scream, and I won’t stop until I hear you beg for mercy. Do you wish to proceed on that basis?”
Today my name is Lois Reeves. I have an appointment with dominant “James Leverett” this morning, because my next assignment requires that I be a “submissive” and I have no idea what that entails. I’m about to find out… by jumping in at the deep end.
This story features medical edge play and electricity play.


Pre-order your copy now—just 99c/99p:
(universal Amazon link—will take you to your home store)
Release date 28th June


Re-release: Four Letter Words #Erotica #Contemporary #Romance



Four Letter Words Blurb:

Paige Holmes has made her choice. But as she begins to get her life back on track, she also starts to question her decision.

Then, the letters arrive. When Paige finds herself in trouble once again, she must decide who she can trust.

Will she go back to the one she denied, or will she stand by her choice?

Love and lust are, after all, both Four Letter Words.


Excerpt from Chapter One:

Laying my head back against the black leather seats of the Jag and gazing ahead, I lifted a finger and touched my lips that were swollen from his kiss. The weariness of the past few weeks was beginning to take over, weighing on my eyelids as they began to droop. I should have been reassured by the man sitting next to me.

I shifted in my seat so I could watch him as he drove on. He was a force that even nature had no hold over. There was an urge to reach out and cling to his broad bicep, a need to feel the security of his physical strength, aching somewhere deep inside of me.

We didn’t speak as he pressed all his weight onto the accelerator, urging the car until it was over the speed limit. I half expected the shine of blue lights to fill the inside of the car, with sirens blaring around us. But they didn’t. Of course they didn’t. Even if a marked car was to pass, I doubted Vance Ellery would slow down, and I had even less that the police would attempt to pull him over. I suspected that the personal phone number of every single high-ranking officer in the country, was tucked away in a neat Rolodex on Vance’s desk or even stored in the memory bank of his mobile phone for easy access.

The silence should have been soothing. I should have been able to let my lashes flutter against my cheeks, and slip into a relaxing slumber. Instead the lack of conversation added to the tension that built behind my eyes. I closed them, hoping that soon I would drift off into a deep sleep, where I would be surrounded by falling flowers, rainbows, and sunlight. Ha! If only I was deserving of such luck. There were no pleasant dreams awaiting me after the sandman visited. Only nightmares wanted to be part of my night. They tormented me, bringing memories that I’d tried to bury and forget. They hounded the darkness, giving me nothing but misery and pain and suffering. It was as though all my sins from a previous life had been rolled over into this one.

If the visions of his face, the sound of his voice had been the only elements of my slumber, then I might have been willing to slip away and let the desperation of rest take me to the shadowed places I dreaded. My soul was destined for torture though. I was to be punished for his crime.

The mere suggestion of sleep forced my blood to pulsate until it was the only thing I could hear, throbbing in my temples. The searing pain of anxiety and panic stabbed at my chest, pins pricking my skin, as I let my eyelids fall. A shudder fell down my spine, waking me from the light doze I’d stumbled into.

Breathe in, breathe out. In with the good, out with the bad. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Breathe in, breathe out. A mantra, taught to me by a yoga instructor years before hell had entered my life, repeated over and over in my mind. I inhaled the cool air through my nasal passages, allowing it to slip down into my pain-filled lungs, exhaling all the bad out of my mouth in a gigantic whoosh.

Ahead, the roads were empty, weaving out of the village and headed towards Richart Courts, the hotel that was to be my sanctuary for the next couple of days before I had to face the next challenge. New York City.

How anyone could expect me to go back there was beyond belief. The only logical explanation for their plans for my future was that facing New York was the lesser of the two evils that haunted me, threatening to rip away the seams that had begun to fray around my already tattered edges.

Pre-Order on Kindle (UK & US), Apple, Kobo, Nook, and Smashwords: Tirgearr Publishing

Four Letter Words is the second, and final, part to Paige’s story. The first part, Seven Dirty Words can be bought here.

Writing: The easiest job in the world


I hear it all the time: “Oh I would write a book, if I didn’t have a real job taking up my time,” and “Writer’s block doesn’t exist. All you’re doing is putting words on page. It can’t be that hard. I don’t know why you’re moaning.” My favourite: “I don’t know why books are so expensive. Writing is the easiest job in the world.” Uh-huh. Okay. If you say so.

The truth is that yeah, writing is easy. Most people can put pen to paper and create a coherent sentence. The trick is stringing 60,000+ words together that not only make sense, but draw people in and keep their attention. Not only that, but coming up with the storyline in the first place – that is where writer’s block comes in. I can have an idea (I usually have three or four), but figuring out where to start the story, whose POV to write it from etc. can take some time!

It’s not just writing that comes under fire though. Hubby is a photographer, and he hears it just as much as me: “Oh I have a digital camera. I’d love to have the time to make it a career,” and “All you do is point and shoot, it can’t be that tricky.” PAH! Photography, like writing, takes a lot more work than people realise. Yeah, he can point the camera and snap away, but he’s got to consider the lighting, positioning, shadows, and a lot of stuff I know nothing about. And then there’s the editing – what you see / read, is not the first draft!!


I can use the internet, but I couldn’t create a webpage from scratch!

I’ve got 2 new books and re-release coming out in the summer. That’s 2 books that I’ve written over the past year. Here’s a few things I think would have been easier:

  • Scaling Mount Everest – Hell, it’s just a large hill isn’t it?
  • Flying a jumbo jet – I can drive a car, it can’t be that difficult. Mechanics is mechanics after all.
  • Performing brain surgery – Break out the scalpel and dig out the bit you don’t need, yeah?
  • Taming a wild lion – If you’ve met my cat, Nibbler, you’ll know that this would be a walk in park for me!
  • Writing a thesis on quantum physics – I can put pen to paper and make words into a sentence, I have access to the internet, what else do you need?

That book you have by your bed? Took a lot longer to write than it will take for you to read it. Just like that meal you ate last night took a lot longer to cook than it did to shovel it into your mouth.

If you think writing a novel is easy, I’m glad – because it means I did a good job. Please, leave a review, and damn well pay for the next book you read.