Sunday, 18 February 2018

#SexySnippets whereDeAnne knows life is never going to be the same again

It's #SexySnippet Time...

I'm writing (and sniggering over) my WOP, which is generally known as DeAnne's story but is called The Awesome Ladies Supper Club.

Married or not?
She'd not sure.
However she is sure that married or not, he's a lying cheating ratfink.
Or is he?
It's a tricky subject, and not one she wants to delve into.
Until Tanner reappears and says they need to be seen as a couple.
Now she's got to make her mind up. Trust him...or throw him to the wolves...

And your #SexySnippets

“I really do need you De, I wouldn’t be here, begging if I didn’t.”
“I really don’t need you Tanner, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t a set up.”
He twisted a blade of grass between the fingers of the hand he hadn’t anchored me with. “De, I knew you wouldn’t just agree. I chose to do it this way with the help of your mates who said I deserved a hearing, but if I upset you they’d string me from lamppost outside the pub and tar and feather me. Fair enough...will you at least let me try and explain?"
Now if I said no I’d be the baddy.

Catch all the other #SexySnippets here

Happy reading,

love Raven x

Wednesday, 14 February 2018

#MWT with an apology and a tease...

First the apology... I was all over the place last week. Literally and metaphorically, and it was only when I went into here on Saturday, I discovered I'd left my #Mid WeekTease in draft...

(Okay, source pinterest, and I couldn't find one of a cat saying 'er...what???')

Anyway, onto #MidWeekTease

Which is a tease from a WIP that is making me giggle. Another Naughty Forties book.

This one is DeAnne's story... 

The Awesome Ladies Supper Club

(She's fed up, set up and not up for it...)

Do you know how one bloody raised eyebrow and a sexy smile can reduce your friends to simpering idiots? Even as I tugged on Rhonda’s shirt and muttered ‘don’t you dare leave me with him’, she the turncoat and her sisters in crime were standing up and preparing to walk away. I began to struggle to my feet only to be stopped—on my knees no less—by Carol who pushed on my shoulder. ‘You stay there and listen.’ She fixed me with what was known amongst our mates as the Carol Crusher—it crushed all thoughts of rebellion PDQ. ‘Whatever you think he deserves his five minutes of explaining.’
‘So you’re throwing me to the wolves? Gee, great friends.’
It was a set up, I might have known. There was no way I could see Mr Great Big Movie Star, Tanner McTavish back here on his own accord. What the hell did he want?
Do I want to know? Dammit I did.
‘Actually, we are,’ Rhonda said. She didn’t sound even the smallest bit repentant. I mean she could have at least tried to pretend she was. Well no not Rhonda. She couldn’t.
 “Great friends. Pull up your big girl panties and get over it,” she said in a brisk, no nonsense fashion. “If we didn’t think it was for your own good, there’s no way we would have agreed to this, and you know it.’
I did but it didn’t make it any easier.
Especially when Tanner just stood there, with what the romance authors call an enigmatic smile playing on his face.
‘Oh, hold on.’ Carol bent down and pressed something into my hand before she sketched a wave and dashed off to catch the others up.
‘If I’m found dead under a bush, I’ll haunt you,’ I shouted after them.
The buggers ignored me.
My nemesis aka Tanner Sodding McTavish smirked.
I scowled. “Fine bloody friends I’ve got.”
‘Stop pouting, love. When you hear what I have to say you’ll realise you have. “Anyway.” He pushed his hair of his forehead with an absent, but impatient gesture that I dammit to hell so remembered. “They’re only over the hill so don’t worry you’ll forget you hate me and jump my bones instead. One love shriek and they’ll be here at the double to stop you doing something before you think about it.” He grinned. “We never did s lot of thinking did we? More act now and think later.” Then he sobered. “De, I need to talk to you. It’s important. That’s why I asked your mates to let me do it like this. Sort of so you have to.”
“I can shove my fingers in my ears and sing out of tune loudly,” I pointed out.
Yeah, but you won’t,” the bastard said confidently. “You want to know what’s so goddam important.”
Damn him he was correct.
“Okay,” I said resigned. “Hit me with it.”
He pushed me to sit down again. So I didn’t fall down?
I had that horrible ‘the shit is about to hit the fan’ sensation.
“Go on... Get it over with.” I didn’t add though I wanted to, like nasty medicine take it fast.
“We need to be a couple again. Been seen together. Show we’re happily married.”
Thank god I was sitting down.
I looked at the packet Carol shoved into my hand. Hellfire, was she optimistic or what? It was a twelve pack of condoms. Multi flavoured and various types. She’d stuck a note on it. There must be a few you like in this lot. More stashed in the picnic basket.
 Actually, I hated the damned things, but sometimes, needs must.
Somehow I didn’t think that this was one of those times.
I’d rather a nice cup of coffee and to be told it was all a big joke.

Catch all the other #MidWeekTease posts here

Happy reading,

love, Raven xx

Tuesday, 13 February 2018

#TT and 'Hope'

To some of you, the picture might not seem to fit. To me it screamed... 


(Pic: Pinterest)

Sometimes it was too easy.
The women, the screams... the show.
All he had to do was look...stare...wait.
He was...acclaimed. Feted... and fawned over.
And forlorn.
He could have any of them. Not just for the show; for him.
It wasn’t enough. Not what he wanted, needed, yearned for.
He looked...for her.
Only her.
Just a glimpse, just once more.
Sometimes the pain was too much to bear. Anguish, the sense of something precious lost.
The gut-wrenching thought.
All my own fault. If he could atone, he would. Grovel, beg, be honest.
I love you. I was scared. Now I know what alone means.
The shouts, the stamping. Louder...insistent.
Show time.

Dare she? Should she? Was she a coward?
No one else could decide. Only her. He strode up on stage.
This is it—maybe...
“Ladies and gentlemen, I need a volunteer. Let me take you back and show you what you were, forward to what you might be. Any takers?”
Show time.
She moved forward. “I’m ready.”
He blinked. “Are you sure?”
“Oh yes but I already know. Before I didn’t trust. Now; for ever, I will. No hypnotism needed. I know, I love you and you love me.”

Catch all the other #Tantalzing Tuesdays posts here

Happy reading,

love Raven x

Monday, 12 February 2018

A guest to perk up Monday...Welcome Lynn Burke and Elite Escorts *Warning Triggers*

And what a way to start the week


First Time
Elite Escorts #3
Cover by: Jay Aheer
 Keywords: Erotic, Romance, Contemporary, BDSM, Suspense

*Warning: physical and verbal abuse triggers, bondage

Daniel Cooney loves to tie women up and is nicely compensated for his services as an Elite escort. He’s no sadist, however, but a gentle dominant who longs for a woman of his own, one who won’t be intimidated by his size and ropes.

Becky Eaton bends over backwards to help her boyfriend work through his mental problems, but her submissive nature enables his sick desires to turn vicious. His plans to exploit her for his pleasure backfires … Becky experiences desire—and a climax—for the first time beneath another man’s command. Master Cooney’s tender touch awakens her in ways she never expected.

Beaten and broken, Becky’s tattered heart yearns for what could be, and while Daniel’s strength proves a pillar of support, she must find the courage within to escape a murderous monster—before it’s too late.


*Warning: Verbal and emotional abuse triggers
I entered the lounge to find the dimmed area already packed. Every stool at the bar along the right was taken, and the groupings of chairs and couches scattered around the room held parties in full-on fun mode.

Naked flesh. Blowjobs. The sounds of asses being tanned—and fucked—filtered through the soft music drifting down from overhead. 

One new couple caught my attention. Arrogance oozed from the wiry Dom as he stared at a woman getting her ass handed to her. His unimpressive hard-on ridged the front of his leather pants. A single rose tattoo inked his arm. 

The voluptuous, dark-haired woman on the leash behind him … wide hips, thick thighs that would be gorgeous wrapped in rope, huge bare breasts with large, soft nipples. 

Not an exhibitionist or voyeur…  

She didn’t follow her Sir meekly as he walked around. She cowered behind him. 

An insecure and co-dependent, with a Dom who took advantage of her quiet nature, my gut told me, sending a tingle of anger down my spine. I stepped off to the side and watched as he led her around the room. They drew near, and I forced myself to keep my gaze on her rather than the prick leading her around like a dog.

“How about this?” the wiry man chuckled, drawing her forward to the ménage scene on the couch to my left. “Double penetration. Two cocks shoved so far up your dry cunt you can’t remember your name?” He laughed again, and the woman trembled, her hands sneaking down to cover the thatch of black hair hiding her pussy.

My fist itched to break Wiry’s nose, the first hint of violence I’d felt in years.

“Well?” Wiry asked, yanking on her lead rope when she didn’t answer. “Does this turn that frigid, fat body of yours on?”

“N-no, Sir.”

“Goddamnit, Becky.” Wiry strode off, pulling her behind him. “The fuck is wrong with you?”
Tearing my gaze off her swaying, lush ass, I swore. Striding across the lounge didn’t lessen my anger, and I continued on with my cussing through the guarded door leading to the private rooms and down the carpeted hall. I wasn’t prone to violence, but if those two were taking the bondage class, I was in deep shit.

“Not my monkey, not my circus,” I muttered while pushing open the door to the private room Chantelle had set up for classes. “Don’t get involved.”

Adrenaline laced my bloodstream, but my hands held steady while rifling through the supplies of silk and hemp rope that had been laid out. A few basic knots, I thought, trying to focus on the task ahead of me. I pulled a chair onto the stage, positioning it on a side angle from where my small audience would sit. 

Ask for a volunteer, Chantelle had said. I snorted. I highly doubted I’d get away without having to talk someone into sitting on the chair while their spouse or partner watched. 

“Hopefully, one of the new Doms won’t mind sharing for an hour,” I muttered to myself.
Or, my conscious whispered, maybe Wiry and Becky will be in the class, and you can ask her to join you on stage. Show her what a real Dom is like.

I shook my head. 

Not. Getting. Involved.

Other Books in the Elite Escorts Series:

About Lynn Burke
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.