Out Now! A Variety of Chains – Erotic paranormal novel by Christine Blackthorn (@CBlackthorn @sinfulpress)

Sinful Press is proud to announce the release of A Variety of Chains, an erotic paranormal novel by Christine Blackthorn, and the first in the Bloodhavens series.

Blurb

Kathryn McClusky is an ErGer – a rare and highly prized individual in the supernatural world.
She has spent her life running and hiding, but circumstances have changed and the only way to protect her family is to hand herself over to the Vampire Lord of London to face slavery or death.
Lucian Neben runs his London court with a stern but fair hand, but political pressures are building from both the human and fey worlds, and taking possession of an ErGer would cement his position of power.
Kathryn is vulnerable and broken almost beyond repair, but she holds in her hands the one treasure Lucian desperately wants – the possibility of home and family.
Can he teach her to open herself up; to choose to life, and him, before reality forces him to take her freedom?

Sales links

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2aq8Kc8

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2avj1Fd

Barnes and Noble: http://bit.ly/BandNVoC

Google Play: http://bit.ly/GPlayVoC

Kobo: http://bit.ly/KoboVoC

Apple: http://bit.ly/AppleVoChttp://bit.ly/AppleVoC

Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/GoodreadsVoC

Excerpt

Quickly he attached a second cuff on her other thigh and tightened the ankle restraints, leaving her laid out on the bed, restrained and open, her legs parted and bent, entirely helpless and accessible to his touch.

“You have no idea how beautiful you are like this – splayed for my desire, unable to resist the pleasure I can give you.” It was his voice that kept the rising panic at bay. She felt the bed dip on her side and knew he had come to kneel beside her, but the first real touch was a soft kiss on her belly, a loving touch more than a seduction. Then his hands began to play over her in gentle caresses and soft massages, touching her everywhere without a pattern that would have forewarned her. One moment his hands were playing along her flank, over her hipbone, the next they circled her wrists above the restraints, reminding her of them, or massaged along her thigh. But he never touched her pussy or let even the gentlest movement play over her breasts. This absence made her skin there hungry and sensitive to him, more so than he could have done with hands or lips. She started to burn, inside out, every cell of her body reorienting itself to him, her mind consumed entirely by the expectation of his touch. Her ears followed his movements, her nose noticing his scent over that of the fire and her own arousal. When his lips engulfed her nipple in wet, hot sensation, a strange sound was torn from her, a sound somewhere between a moan and a cry. His encouragement became a caress of its own on her sensitised skin.

“Sing for me, Kathryn. Let me hear your pleasure.”

He took his time with her breasts, sucking, licking, never pushing her endurance but centring all her attention on his mouth over her nipples and his hands roving over her body. Only when she felt both her breasts swollen and heavy, her nipples taut and engorged, did he let up. Her breath was panting and as he sat up, removing his hands from her, she whimpered from abandonment, not pleasure. Every aspect of her demanded his touch, his scent, his voice – him.

His dark laughter rose to engulf her.

“Shh, now. We have only just started. I am here, always at your side. Remember that to get relief you only have to tell me something intimate, something I cannot guess or reason out for myself. A secret of your heart.” As he spoke she heard the sound of a bottle opening, and the smell of peppermint permeated the room. She felt the touch of a cool cloth over nipples, leaving behind a slight wetness, nothing else. She was distracted from the new sensation by the hand gently stroking along her thigh to her vagina, a teasing touch cumulating in a finger stroking along her labia, collecting the moisture at her entrance and spreading it along the length to circle once over her clitoris. Then she felt a second cloth stroking along each side of her engorged clitoris, not touching directly but applying something to the skin around it. And suddenly there was a burn – a warming of her skin first but then heat in ever increasing intensity.

Author Bio

In “real” life, I am an academic with degrees in Political Science, Economics, Philosophy and Law and an insatiable desire to confound, baffle and disconcert my students. Someone once suggested to me the reason for my stories lay in the desire to offset the tedium and rationality of academic life. He wasn’t an academic or he would have known better. It is best to use research against tedium, students to offset the rationality and an unlimited supply of stressballs for the faculty meetings. The stories? Well, they are just for me – like a mental manicure.

I also write a blog on Feminism and Erotica – come talk to me:

Blog: http://christineblackthorn.eu/blog
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cnblackthorn
Twitter: https://twitter.com/CBlackthorn

Release blitz hosted by Writer Marketing Services.

Out Now—Passion’s Last Promise (Club Aegis #4) by Christie Adams

Blurb:

Hers to protect…his to serve…

When a failed kidnap attempt leads to CEO Dr. Simon Northwood acquiring a bodyguard, he isn’t prepared for close protection specialist Ros Edwards, a former captain in the Royal Military Police. Experienced submissive though he is, having a woman stand between him and any further threat is completely untenable.

Assigned to protect the genius behind a project of national importance, Ros unexpectedly encounters the most delicious man she’s met in a long time. As a Domme, she’d love to play with him, but even if he weren’t in need of her professional skills, there’s no way he’s submissive.

A determined man. A stubborn woman. When passion flirts with danger, the last promise is the toughest one of all…

Buy links:
Amazon: http://getbook.at/PLP
All Romance eBooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-passion039slastpromise-1940493-147.html
iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/book/passions-last-promise/id1131728778?mt=11
Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/passion-s-last-promise

*****

Excerpt:

“Problems, Miss Edwards?”
“Not at all, Dr. Northwood.” She turned towards him and slipped the smartphone back into her jacket pocket. “A minor logistical issue, that’s all. Is there something I can do for you?”
“I was wondering if we were still on schedule to depart for Oxford as planned.” From what he’d heard, Simon had his doubts.
“Of course, sir. As I said, a minor logistical issue.” She paused, fixing him with her coolly assessing gaze. “I was just about to make coffee—would you care to join me?”
He had a conference call in a few minutes, his third of the day, but Simon suddenly found himself more in need of a shot of caffeine, and another opportunity to try to goad her into going Domme on him. He’d been trying all week, and this morning was the closest he’d come yet. He strode over to the desk to call his PA.
“Alicia? Can you let Martin know that he’ll be handling the finance call in ten? Give him my apologies—something’s come up that requires my attention elsewhere. Thanks.” He replaced the receiver and turned his attention back to his bodyguard. “I don’t mind if I do, Miss Edwards.”
She gave a brief nod in acknowledgement. He watched her disappear into the adjoining kitchen, only to hear seconds later the crash of breaking glass followed by the colourful and creative cursing he was coming to associate with his beautiful bodyguard. Simon headed for the epicentre of the disaster.
As if someone had flicked a switch, his nonchalant attitude came to an abrupt end. Ros was running her hand under the tap, washing away the blood that was oozing from a cut to her hand. Broken glass littered the worktop and the floor.
Simon’s protective instincts kicked into action, sweeping aside all thoughts of provoking her again. He grabbed the first aid kit from one of the cupboards. “Let me help.”
“It’s all right, I can manage.”
“No—you can’t. What happened?”
To his surprise, she allowed him to take her hand in his. Strong and capable, it was at the same time neat and feminine, with short but immaculately manicured nails. No rings, but as he’d told himself the first time he’d checked, that didn’t necessarily mean anything.
“Kamikaze glassware.” Ros glanced up at the open cupboard. “When I was getting the mugs to make the coffee, I accidentally nudged a couple of tumblers. They decided to take their name seriously and try out for the Olympic gymnastics team. I can tell you now, their technique sucked.”
Simon pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh at the latest glimpse of her taste in humour. She’d caught him unawares like that once or twice before, with a little nugget of dry wit. “What were you trying to do? Catch them or juggle with them?”
She shot him a dark scowl. At that precise moment, she looked more like the recipient of a sense of humour bypass, then he realised she was more annoyed with herself.
“I was picking up the pieces. Some of the shards started slipping out of my hands and I grabbed at them on instinct. Stupid thing to do. At least it’s not my right hand.”
He quirked a questioning eyebrow.
“Trigger finger.” She waggled the digit at him. “Can’t pull a trigger if I’m bandaged up.”
“Or if you end up slicing through tendons.” Simon’s slightly harsh tone was a reflection of his discomfort at the way she spoke so candidly of using firearms. “A dustpan and brush might have been safer than trying to pick up the broken glass.” He nodded in the direction of the tall corner cupboard.
For a moment she looked like she was about to argue, but then the change in her expression and a tiny, careless shrug acknowledged the truth of his words. Simon turned his attention to her injuries. There were some superficial cuts but the main one wasn’t as bad as he’d first thought—she’d probably get away without needing any stitches in it. Having confirmed there was no glass in the wound, he pulled on some surgical gloves and ripped open a sachet containing an antiseptic wipe.
She was standing so close now. He tried not to be distracted by the calm rise and fall of her breasts, or the subtle floral scent of her perfume. He tried not to respond to her steady gaze resting squarely on him. He tried not to think of the probable reasons why a former RMP officer never even flinched at the sting of the antiseptic.
Having put a couple of Steri-Strips on the cut, he then made the move that was his downfall. It was the small, insignificant act of glancing up at Ros’ face. She was staring at his hands in rapt fascination, lips slightly parted, almost inviting a kiss.
Carpe diem. The Latin phrase blazed through Simon’s mind like a meteor. She hadn’t responded to provocation, so perhaps a different tactic was called for. He swept aside the memory of the altercation they’d had a few hours earlier, focusing instead on this moment.
Simon pulled off the surgical gloves with a snap. In a club, he’d never dream of doing what he was about to do—it went against everything he’d been trained for, but this was an opportunity he couldn’t afford to miss.
Before Ros could move away from him, he took her uninjured hand in his and raised it to his lips. Before his inner voice could convince him he was making a huge mistake, he pressed a gentle kiss to her palm.
“Dr. Northwood.”
He wasn’t expecting the sound of his name to send a delicious shiver through his body. The formality, though…just as guilty of that as she was, maybe even more so, but he wanted it to end. “Simon.”
Desire would be held back no longer—he claimed the sweetness of her mouth, and prepared to take his punishment for crashing through her boundaries…

*****

Author Bio:

After winning an erotic short story competition, Christie Adams waited over twenty years to follow it up with her first full-length erotic romance. The second publisher she approached picked it up, and after a brief spell with them, she moved into the exciting world of indie publishing.
When she was asked about how she got into writing, Christie realised she’s been putting pen to paper—or fingers to keyboard—for longer than she thought. It all started in her teens, with stories featuring characters from her favourite TV shows—usually action dramas—but in her imagination, those characters were given a romantic life to go with the all-action one their audiences saw.
From there, she progressed to romantic novels featuring characters of her own invention, but success eluded her until she spotted the erotic short story competition in a magazine.
Christie lives in north-west England. When not at the day job, she can usually be found wrestling with the characters in her latest novel. Occasionally she finds time for sleep, and maintains her social skills through, among other things, regular attendance at a pub quiz, which forces her to think about other things besides plots and characterisation.

Out Now! Mean Girls – M/F BBW Erotic Romance by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985)

Mean Girls, a M/F erotic romance by Lucy Felthouse, with Rubenesque and body confidence themes, has been re-released with a stunning new cover and a lower price! Please note, however, if you’ve read it before, that the content hasn’t changed.

*****

Blurb:

Adele Blackthorne is a big girl, a curvy chick. She knows it, and she’s been picked on all her life because of it. But she’s gotten to the stage where she doesn’t care. She may be Rubenesque, but she’s healthy, too. Much healthier than the mean girls at the leisure center that point and stare and say spiteful things about her. Adele rises above it all, and simply enjoys her secretive glances at the center’s hunky lifeguard, Oliver.

As the bullying of Adele becomes worse, Oliver finds it increasingly difficult not to intervene. He doesn’t want to get into trouble with work, but equally he can’t stand to see Adele treated in such a horrible way. Especially since he doesn’t agree that she’s fat and unattractive. He thinks she’s a seriously sexy woman, and would like to get to know her better. Much better.

Buy links:

Amazon: http://mybook.to/meangirls
All Romance eBooks: http://bit.ly/29USu5p
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/29NMwE1
iBooks UK: http://apple.co/29TCrpv
iBooks US: http://apple.co/2af9Rga
Kobo: http://bit.ly/29H4e8E
Smashwords: http://bit.ly/29HNIeH

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18147145-mean-girls

*****

Excerpt:

As usual, Adele Blackthorne felt the weight of gazes on her as she walked from the changing room to the steps to get into the swimming pool. She was used to it by now, and had learned not to react, to just carry on as though she hadn’t noticed people staring and not-so-subtly pointing at her.

With a polite nod to Oliver, the lifeguard, as she passed him, Adele was grateful for his much more favorable reaction. If he thought she resembled a beached whale, he hid it much better than everyone else did. The warmth in his eyes as he nodded back even looked genuine. But she had no illusions, he probably slagged her off the moment he got into the staffroom, or home, talking about the fat woman who went swimming three times a week without fail. But for now, she’d pretend he didn’t. Pretend he thought she was sexy, and wanted to get lost in her abundant curves. God knows she’d like him to.

It was true, she was a big girl and she was most definitely aware of it. Ever since she’d gotten to the age where her excess weight could no longer be called puppy fat, she’d tried to do something about it. Every diet under the sun, ridiculous amounts of exercise… nothing worked. Adele had grown so depressed in her teens that she’d become bulimic. Naturally, she’d lost some weight that way, but she’d also made herself so ill that she’d had to be hospitalized. It had terrified the life out of her, and ever since, she’d resolved that she’d much rather be healthy than skinny.

Which was why she visited her local leisure center three times a week. She used the gym and sauna, and went swimming. And every single time she went, she’d catch someone gawping at her. But because of the years she’d spent—especially at school—being called all the names under the sun, she’d developed an incredibly thick skin. She was happy and healthy—so healthy in fact that she could probably beat all of those skinny bitches at a swimming race. Of course she never offered, never called anyone out on their rudeness and ignorance, but it made her feel better to know that she was fitter and much more polite than them.

Slipping into the fast lane, she settled her goggles carefully into position—she hated getting water in her eyes—then lifted her legs to rest the bottoms of her feet against the end of the pool. Looking at the clock on the wall that counted seconds, she waited until the hand reached the top, then pushed off from the side and launched herself into the lane. It was quiet, so she had this section of the pool to herself. Her arms cut through the water, her legs flapped wildly and she did ten laps without losing any speed. Emerging from the water, she checked the clock again and was pleased to note she’d beaten her previous time.

She was just about to start another ten laps, when she heard voices from the other side of the pool. Voices that clearly forgot how well they carried on water. It was as though they were right next to her.

“God, I’m surprised all the water doesn’t jump out of the pool when she gets in. And the way she swims—she’ll cause a tidal wave one of these days.”

The spiteful words were followed by a trio of sniggers, and Adele gritted her teeth. Part of her wished that she could create a bloody tidal wave, so it would sweep those bitches under water and drown them. The other part of her tsked at the thought. Ideas like that made her just as bad as them, just as unpleasant, just as cowardly.

Because they were cowardly—the way they spoke about her behind her back proved that. If they ever passed her somewhere in the leisure center or its car park, they never said anything, not one word. They’d just scurry away as fast as they could, then titter when they thought she was out of earshot. She hoped that just one time, someone would say something to her face, so she could retaliate, speak up for herself. There was no way she’d start anything—she didn’t want to add confrontational to the list of faults that the mean girls had obviously compiled about her.

Sucking in a deep breath, Adele launched into another ten laps, allowing the chilly water and the exertion of powering through it to burn away her irritation. Because that’s all it was—irritation. She wasn’t angry. Anger was too powerful an emotion, and one that was totally wasted on those ignorant women. She almost felt sorry for them, actually. If they had nothing better to do than to stare at her and slag her off all the time, then they clearly had very dull lives.

The thought cheered her considerably and when she completed her twentieth lap, she lay her forearms on the edge of the pool and hoiked herself up. Her back was pressed against the side, and from here she had a perfect view of the rest of the pool. Tugging her goggles down so they hung around her neck, she had a damn good look at everyone else. The small children and their guardians in the kids’ pool right at the other end of the enormous hall, the old people who swum so slowly as they chatted that she was surprised they stayed afloat, the relentless movement of the man in the medium-speed lane and, of course, the mean girls who were in the same sort of position she was, but at the side of the pool rather than the end. The side which faced the lifeguard station.

Adele narrowed her eyes and watched them—the two waif-like blondes and a brunette—as they chatted and giggled, and it seemed for a change, not about her. They’d clearly changed the subject since their previous spouting of vitriol. Their focus was very firmly on Oliver as he sat on his lofty perch, surveying the pools before him, ready to jump in should anyone get into trouble. She often toyed with the idea of faking a problem, just to get him into the pool and his strong arms around her. However, she knew that although he’d undoubtedly do his duty and help her, he’d never believe such a strong swimmer would need his assistance. Then he’d lose all respect for her, and probably stop hiding his disdain for her so effectively. And the polite nods and smiles she got from him were the only thing—aside from the center’s top-notch facilities—that made the place bearable. She was sure that if the three witches—a nickname she’d secretly come up with for the women—had their way, there would be a sign on the main doors to the building saying ‘No Fat People Allowed.’

*****

About Lucy Felthouse

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller) and Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller). Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 140 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter and Facebook. You can also subscribe to her monthly newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Release blitz hosted by Writer Marketing Services.

Dare you enter The House of Fox? Pre-Order Now! (@sjsmithauthor @SinfulPress) #paranormal #comedy #smut

Blurb:

The House of Fox is a paranormal comedy that contains scenes of a sexually explicit nature.

After a drunken night on the town, four friends awake to find themselves in the House of Fox, the ultimate brothel in the universe, where every sordid fantasy becomes reality. But all is not as it seems. The House of Fox harbours many dark secrets, and factions are plotting against one another.

The four newcomers must choose their friends carefully, and take care not to lose their minds on the thrill ride of perversion that will carry them to the ends of the Earth and beyond.

The Great Voyeur in the Sky is watching . . .

The House of Fox by SJ Smith is now available to pre-order through Amazon and will be available for sale through all major outlets on the 30th of June.

Buy links for The House of Fox:

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1Ye7UVl
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1RWWqha

Excerpt:

“God, look at the pair of them. They’re so fucking boring.”
Kitty was watching the live feed from the video camera; grainy, blue tinged footage on a fat backed TV.
“Like, any sane woman would’ve been bouncing on Dylan’s cock the minute she stepped through the door. But oh no, not little miss goody two shoes Donna; she’d never lower herself into doing anything quite so lowbrow.”
Jane, who was standing behind, massaging Kitty’s shoulders, nodded in full agreement.
“You know what? I’ll take great pleasure in throwing her to the flames. It’s no more than the dismal bitch deserves.” Kitty grabbed the clipboard and updated the dossier, scrawling nothing happening in the relevant box. “And here’s me damn fool enough to think pulling watch duty on that pair might prove fun.”
“Things may hot up… eventually,” Jane offered.
“Are you kidding? That bitch is so frigid she could raise penguins in her asshole.” Kitty swivelled around in her office chair and trapped Jane’s legs between her knees. “Fuck ‘em. Let’s get back to the game. Now remind me, honey pie, what was the score again?”
“Four all.” Jane shook her head, gutted at having squandered a four-nil lead.
“Then it’s time for the big decider.” Kitty’s beaming smile lit up Jane’s world. “What do you think? The loser has to do the next five hours’ watch?”
“Let’s do it.” Jane strutted up to the mound, confident she could pull this off.
Kitty sat back in her chair and spread her legs wide, hanging her knees over either armrest. She licked her fingertip, parted her pussy lips and pushed three ping-pong balls up her cunt. “Ready?”
“Ready,” Jane nodded. She steeled herself in preparation, and tightened her grip on the spank paddle.
Kitty pulled a face and thrust her hips, and a ping-pong ball flew clean out of her quim at high velocity and came arcing across the office. Jane swung the paddle, but missed by six inches. The ball sailed by and bounced off the coffee machine.
“Strike one,” Kitty yelled.
“Goddamnit.” Jane rolled out her shoulders to loosen them, and adopted the stance once again. “Ready.”
A second ping-pong ball flew from between Kitty’s love lips, this time on a much lower trajectory. Jane swung and caught the ball a glancing blow off the rim of the paddle, sending it straight downwards, where it ricocheted off the floor and bounced several times before dribbling to a pathetic stop between her feet.
“Strike two,” Kitty yelled. “The game now rests on this one final delivery. Will she step up to be a hero or will she fold under the pressure?”
“This time.” Jane was focussed now. She took a few practice swings before crouching sideways on. “Ready.” She would not miss – she knew it.
The third ball, glistening with pussy juice, came spinning toward her, and she saw its flightpath almost in slow motion. She swung the paddle, catching the ball flush in the face, and sent it hurtling out through the open door into the corridor. “Home run,” she squealed, and danced a celebratory jig. “I win, I win.”
“Pah, you got lucky,” Kitty sneered.
“Luck had nothing to do with it. I won thanks to my natural ability at the game.”
The game – which they had been playing for the best part of two days – was called either Pussy Ping-Pong or Beaver Baseball; they still hadn’t made a final decision as to which they liked better. It had superseded ‘What’s the most unusual thing you can shove up your ass?’ which Kitty had won by successfully ramming a signed, first edition of Oliver Twist into her brown eye.

Author Bio:

SJ Smith is a neurotic recluse who lives in North Wales. It has long been his dream to become a full time filth monger. If you’ve never had the pleasure of reading SJ Smith before, his hilarious crime novel, Peeper, will be free from the 26th to the 30th of June on Amazon. Buy links can be found at http://www.sinfulpress.co.uk/Peeper

Links:

Twitter: @sjsmithauthor
Blog: http://sjsmithrants.blogspot.co.uk
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SJ-Smith-426405650840664

Publisher links:

Website: http://www.sinfulpress.co.uk
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/sinfulpressuk
Twitter: @SinfulPress

One Night in Cape Town by Lily Harlem @lily_harlem #Erotica #Romance #eBook #99c #99p

One Night in Cape Town
By Lily Harlem

PRE-ORDER NOW TO CLAIM AT BARGAIN PRICE!

Pre-order a copy of Lily Harlem’s hot new story, ONE NIGHT IN CAPE TOWN and be seduced on a mountain top by a seriously sexy backpacker who knows exactly what he needs to do not only to survive but also to claim the woman he wants!

Pre-order price just 99c/99p – goes up on release day 29th June!

Back Cover Information

The week before her big day, Tia catches her fiancé getting down and dirty with her best friend. She quickly washes her hands of them both. But why waste a perfectly good and very expensive honeymoon to her dream spot-South Africa?

After bumping into the same cute guy three times in Cape Town, Tia’s reminded she still has desires. Before long, they’re hiking over Table Mountain together, and getting to know each other.

But when trouble brews in the African sky, a wild storm leaves them stranded on the mountain as night falls. Levi’s survival skills provide them with quick shelter as the storm rages above. But for Tia, another storm rages between her and her sexy saviour. Will he teach her to trust again? Or is there more to the hot American than meets the eye?

Buy Links (pre-order on Amazon only)

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Tirgearr Publishing

Kobo

Barnes and Noble

About Lily Harlem

Lily Harlem lives in the UK and is an award-winning author of erotic romance. She writes for publishers on both sides of the Atlantic including HarperCollins, Totally Bound, Pride Publishing, Evernight Publishing, All Romance eBooks, and Sweetmeats Press. Her work regularly receives high praise and industry nominations.

Before turning her hand to writing Lily Harlem worked as a trauma nurse and her latest HarperCollins release, Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse draws on her many experiences while nursing in London. Lily also self-publishes and The Silk Tie, The Glass Knot and Scored have been blessed with many 5* reviews since their release.

Lily writes MF, MM and ménage a trois, her books regularly hit the #1 spot on Amazon Best Seller lists and Breathe You In was named a USA Today Reviewer’s Recommended Read of 2014. Her latest MM novel is Dark Warrior.

Lily also co-authors with Natalie Dae and publishes under the name Harlem Dae – check out the Sexy as Hell Trilogy – The Novice, The Player, and The Vixen – and That Filthy Book which has been hailed as a novel ‘every woman should read’.

One thing you can be sure of, whatever book you pick up by Ms Harlem, is it will be wildly romantic and down-and-dirty sexy. Enjoy!

Check out Lily’s website for details of her other books and her Amazon Author Page. Subscribe to her newsletter to get a FREE ebook and be the first to hear of new releases and free reads, and if you enjoy Facebook, hop on over there and say hi!

Lily Harlem Links

Website http://www.lilyharlem.com/
Newsletter Subscription http://www.lilyharlem.com/newsletter.html
Blog http://www.lilyharlem.blogspot.com/
Twitter https://twitter.com/lily_harlem
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/lily.harlem
Facebook author page https://www.facebook.com/LilyHarlemAuthor
Pinterest http://pinterest.com/lilyharlem/
Raw Talent http://rawtalentseries.co.uk
BritBabes http://thebritbabes.blogspot.co.uk
Google+ https://plus.google.com/u/0/106837751333678531161/posts
Harlem Dae http://www.harlemdae.com
Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4070110.Lily_Harlem