Wednesday, 21 June 2017

#MidWeekTease Are you ready to be hooked on Sold?

#MidWeekTease is brought to you courtesy of Doris O'Connor and her new book,

Sold




All I can say is.... Get on and read it, it is fantastic.

Evangeline Prewitt has had better days, weeks, and quite possibly months. A rent increase on top of a huge car repair forces her to seek out her boss for financial help. His solution? Enter The Games.
Evie has her doubts about being sold off to the highest bidder—who would want a plump waitress? However, desperate times call for drastic measures. Besides, it’s only sex. What can possibly go wrong?
Atlan St. James seeks out The Games for a little distraction. This three-hundred-year-old vampire is drawn to the delicious human bundle of curves the minute he sees her. Evie will be his, at least for the night. What neither of them counts on is the instant connection between them. After all, sex is easy. Emotions are far more difficult to negotiate.
As far as Atlan is concerned, the only solution is to let his precious angel go.
Evie, however, will not be dictated to.

The game is on.

Over to Atlan for your #MidWeekTease





Atlan could have kissed whoever designed that dress, because she was clearly braless under the thin fabric, her large rack jiggling delightfully as she moved. With not a speck of makeup on her face, she looked young and good enough to eat. His jaw ached with the need to sink his fangs back into her neck and to claim her all over again.
Agnes threw him a glance, having noticed him, but his little angel was still oblivious to his presence as she took off the lid of the chicken dish and inserted a spoon to taste it.
Her resulting delighted moan made him cross the short distance to her, as she held up the spoon for Agnes to have a taste too.
“This is delicious, but you tell me whether I got it right.”
“Let me be the judge of that.” Atlan grasped her wrist while he licked the spoon, and Evie jumped.
“Jesus, don’t do that. Where have you come from?”
Her eyes widened, her pupils dilating when he took the spoon off her, dropped it on the worktop, and proceeded to kiss her palm.
“I’ve been standing there a while, admiring the view.” He dropped his gaze slowly down to her front, satisfied beyond all reason to see her breathing increase. Her nipples formed into little hard nubs, clearly visible through the fabric of her dress, and he let his fangs run out.
Evie’s lips parted, and it took every ounce of self-control he possessed to not crush her to him and to kiss her senseless.
Instead, he forced himself to let go of her hand and, turning slightly, address Agnes.
“The food is delicious as always, Agnes, thank you.”
The lines on Agnes’s face deepened as she beamed back at him.
“Oh, I just directed. Evie wanted to help, so she did most of the work. Your girl is a natural in the kitchen.”
Evie’s expressive eyes widened further at being called his girl. Atlan knew he ought to correct that statement, but fuck him if that didn’t sound right. Evie was his girl. He knew that, deep down in his bones. Had known it from the first time he’d seen her, and that instinctive knowledge had only further imprinted itself in the very fabric of his being with every taste of her blood, every sweet moan of her surrender, every scream of pleasure he’d wrung from her.
He would have to let her go, he knew that too, but right now here in this moment in his kitchen, with mere inches separating them, all he could think of was tasting her again.
“Good to know. Take a plate for yourself and Joseph, and leave us be, would you? I’ll ring if we need you again tonight.”
Evie’s sharp intake of breath made him smile, as did Agnes’s murmured acknowledgment. The speed with which she helped herself to two portions would have done any vampire proud, and before he knew it they were alone in his kitchen. Atlan tugged his precious angel closer to him, so close that her tits pressed into his chest and her breaths warmed his skin.
“Atlan, I… Are you hungry?”
Her breathless question shot straight to his dick, and that organ punched forward with such speed it was rather a surprise he had any blood left in his body anywhere else.
“I am, but not for food, my angel.” Her mouth formed a silent O even as she drew closer to him, instinctively tilting her head to give him better access. He bent his head to scrape his fangs along the sensitive flesh there, and his girl shivered in his arms. Her hands fisted in the back of his shirt and drew him closer to her soft body, and he once again marveled at how perfectly she fit against him. As though she was made just for him.
“What are you hungry for, Sir?” She whispered the question into his ear. Instead of answering her, Atlan spun her around, kicked her legs apart, and bent her over the worktop while he ran one hand under her skirt. He growled low in his throat when he encountered the damp barrier of her knickers.
“Hmm, I’m not the only one who’s hungry. You’re soaking wet for me already, you naughty girl.” Atlan ran his finger under the elastic of her underwear and along the seam of her labia until he found the little hard nub he was looking for. A cock-hardening moan came from his angel when he circled that needy button and then sunk two fingers into her wet heat.
“Please, I…god, don’t stop, please.”
She whimpered and pushed her ass into his groin, as he increased the speed and depth of penetration of his digits inside her delectable cunt. Her responsiveness was such a fucking turn-on as he grasped the neckline of her dress and pulled it down to expose her large tits. They fell free, swung from side to side with the involuntary movements she was making as her arousal built and she rode his fingers.
“That’s my girl. How badly do you want my cock inside this greedy pussy? Tell me.”
He rocked his groin into her ass while he finger-fucked her faster, harder, and her incoherent moans increased. Her essence soaked his fingers. Her cunt muscles clamped around his digits, and her hips went wild, as she sought that release she so desperately wanted.

“Tell me, girl, or this all stops now.”

Catch the other #MidWeekTease posts here

and Sold here

Happy Reading

love Raven x

Tuesday, 20 June 2017

Hey hey hey, It's Cat's release day... Cat with the Blue Eyes is out today. Let's sneak a peek

Take one red-haired blue-eyed Cat.
That's Catlin.
She can't shift.
Add Dylan—who can.
Stir in melodrama, malice, and mischief and watch the fur fly.
Literally.




Am I all over happy? You bet I am.

and here's a sneak peek from the beginning...

Chapter One
Catlin Creamer looked with a certain degree of sympathy as the group of young, Scottish wildcat shifters slunk—there was no other word for it—out of the room. One or two of them snuck glaring resentful glances at the tall, tawny-haired cat, who stood next to her, every sinew in him taut, and every sense alert.
Talk about an alpha male. Catlin mentally shook her head. Nope, don’t go there. Much too much testosterone for comfort.
“They can’t help it you know,” she murmured as the last cat left the room and she shut the door behind them, leaned back on the wood and considered him thoughtfully. “They look at you, who shifts like it’s as easy as drinking a cup of coffee, think they can do it and then get pissed off when it’s not as simple as they imagined. Smile complacently and roll their eyes when you try to tell them about the dangers of straying from our lands when they’ve shifted, because of course they know it all and we’re the oldies.” She sniggered. “Over the hill at twenty-eight, I ask you, it’s enough to make me beg for a pension and retire to Skye and learn to weave.”
She pushed off from the door. “Except I have no inclination to weave.” Or move away from him, but he didn’t need to know that. Restless, out of sorts, and no idea why, except it had to involve the cat in front of her, who contemplated every move she made though watchful eyes. It was bloody irritating. Her long multi-colored skirts swished round her legs and she kicked out at them impatiently. Maybe it was time to change the habits of a lifetime. She caught the
speculative expression on her companion’s face—even shifted it was as apt as that stupid phrase went—like the cat that had got the cream. If he said one word, just one word about names, or designated partners, she’d throw something. It was a pity there wasn’t much throwable around. To teach young shifters everything they might need to know, the room was of necessity large and free of obstacles. Even then, after each session some interesting scuff-marks would show in the most unlikely of places.
“You bawl them out for being arsy or cocky and they mutter and moan about you,” she went on. “Unfortunately after that, I’m the poor sod who has to calm it all down. How to Deal With Your Elders and Betters 101. What I wouldn’t give for a quiet life.”
The cat next to her smiled—if that’s what you called the baring of canines—shook and morphed into a hot as hades male. One she’d sworn off ages ago.
He was bad enough as a cat. As a human, a naked human, he was ten times worse.
Dylan MacSween stretched and her mouth went dry.
God, he was magnificent. Long tawny tresses with those gold and dark streaks in them, just like his fur when he’d shifted. A torso sprinkled with short strands of gold and black, which arrowed downward to where dark, wiry, hair made a nest for his, she had to admit, rather magnificent cock. To say she drooled was an understatement.
Her mouth went dry as she thought of what he could do with that appendage...if she agreed to mate with him.
Unfortunately for her, he was her designated mate and she was having none of it. No way would she be told to mate, or subjugate herself to anyone. Even if it did mean she stayed single forever.
“You’d hate it.” Dylan shook his head and let his hair spin around and settle on his shoulders. “Being single for ever.”
“Dammit, keep out of my thoughts. It’s rude to listen in,” she said indignantly. “Mine all mine.”
“You forget as my life partner to be, I can read you without consciously trying. Hear you automatically,” Dylan said as he finger combed his hair and plaited it loosely. “Sod it, this needs cutting. Have you got an elastic handy? Nowhere to hide one like this.” He regarded his naked body unselfconsciously.
Catlin rummaged in her pocket and brought out a pink
scrunchy. “Only this.” She waited to see what he’d say as she dangled it from one finger and whirled it around in a circle.
“Thanks, that’s fine.” Dylan took it from her mid-swing, and secured the end of his plait. “Right, any clues where my jeans are?”
“Where you left them maybe?” Catlin said sweetly. Something in his tone annoyed her. “I’m not your servant. I have no idea where you dump stuff, because I have no need to.”
Dylan gave her a black look. His eyes glowed yellow and dangerous before he blinked and sheathed his inner cat. She shivered. Why, oh why did she insist on challenging him?
Because he’s too big for his paws that’s why. But was he? Or was he merely fulfilling his role in the Dowt—their group of Scottish Wild Cats that lived and worked as humans part of the time and shifted into their wild forms at others.
“Never said you were my servant, sweet Cat. I don’t want a servant. I want a partner.” He walked across the room to a tall cupboard and pulled out a black t-shirt and a pair of well-worn, white at the seams, denims. “Now how did these get in here?” he mused as he zipped up the fly. “Never mind, don’t answer. I don’t much care as long as I can get dressed. Naked in Scotland in the winter is not a good idea. Bits might freeze and drop off.” He slanted her a glance and smiled. “Pity not to let you have the chance to experience what I can do with one of them eh?”
“In your dreams.” And mine darn it, oh and in mine. Hot, wet, erotic, skin tingling, clit clenching, need my bullet dreams.
Dylan nodded. “Yep, all too frequently, my love. So, all joking apart, when are you going to see sense and agree to our life ceremony? Belong to me.”
She harrumphed all her ideas about meeting him halfway dissipated by that insensitive statement. “That’s not me. My life is mine. I’m never going to be someone else’s. Belong to you? Sheesh. Not gonna happen. I’m my own person, not yours, the Dowt’s or the man in the moon’s. Watch my lips. Mine.” Why couldn’t he say something different? Use sweeter, softer words? Accept her for what she was, not what he wanted her to be?
He growled, shook his head and his pink bobbled plait jumped around his neck and shoulders before it settled again, as he flicked Catlin’s cheek. As ever his touch seared her skin. One day she was sure she’d see a tattoo or something where he’d touched her.

“What am I going to do with you?” he mused as he stroked her face and sent goose bumps skittering over her skin. “You know it’s going to happen. How else will the Dowt survive and grow.” It wasn’t a question. “Why don’t you believe me?”
She shrugged and did her best to ignore that frisson of something indefinable that slithered and darted over her skin. “I can’t shift.” To her mind, that said it all. How could she partner the head of the Dowt when she could only ever be human? “I can’t shift,” she repeated vehemently. “No good for you.”
Dylan raised one imperious brow. “I heard you the first time. That’s not a problem. I can. I’m head of the Dowt. You, my love, are mine, you just need to accept it.” He made it sound so simple. 


And if that's made you wonder, what next, click here to buy it from Evernight Publishing

Happy Reading,

love Raven x



Monday, 19 June 2017

What a way to start the week... with Ravenna and her latest release...


I'm delighted to have the lovely and talented Ravenna Tate as my guest today, with her latest book, 

Paddled by the Teacher

Over to you Ravenna...


BLURB

Chelsea Anderson has entertained fantasies of being spanked and paddled all her adult life. But until she found an ad on a BDSM site, seeking participants for a survey on impact play, she had given up hope of fulfilling those fantasies in real life. Intimate relationships haven’t worked out for Chelsea. She feels like a freak because of her secret desires, and because of her poor body image, she doesn’t believe herself lovable.

Slade Taylor, the Dom at Sensations who introduces her to impact play during one erotic night at the club, is everything she’s ever dreamed of. Handsome, charming, and in control. Slade also has been unlucky in love, but would a man like him be interested in anything beyond this experiment with her? Is it possible Chelsea has finally found the man of her dreams?




PADDLED BY THE TEACHER
The Spanking Experiments 1



***Click HERE to purchase
directly from Evernight Publishing***

EXCERPT

He kisses me, tongue and all, and I’m lost in the dizzying sensation of strong arms enfolding me while that magical mouth works over mine. His dick is rock hard again, and I move my hips against it, rocking them forward and backward, until I’m so damn wet the juices trickle down my thighs.

“Chelsea…” His whisper sends shivers down my spine. That incredible mouth moves to my neck, where he plants tiny bites up and down my jawline. I want to fuck him so badly I taste it.

“Where do you want to be for this? The cross again? One of the benches?” He grasps my breasts and dips his head, licking the nipples with long, slow strokes. “I can’t wait to see these clamped.”

“Wherever you want me.” Thinking is impossible. Breathing is difficult. Speaking is a chore.

“Come with me.” He takes my hand and leads me toward a bowed leather bench. I’ve been intrigued with this one since spying it when I first came into the room. “This might be too intense for you since you’ll be restrained and completely open to me.”

“I’ll be all right. Thank you for asking.”

The expression on his face is tender. “Your care is my concern.”

I like this. A lot. “Is it really this easy?”

Confusion fills his eyes. “Is what really this easy?”

“Being a submissive.”

“Everyone’s dynamic is different. If you were my sub, we’d work new things in over time, once you were ready. But of course, that would depend on what you enjoyed, and what didn’t do it for you.”

“What about you? What does it for you?”

Every time he grins, I want to get on my knees and beg him to fuck me. Hard. “I’ve already told you my two favorite things, Chelsea, and we’ve done them both. The rest is icing on the cake.”

After he assists me into a comfortable position on the bench, and both my wrists and ankles are restrained with soft leather, I understand what he meant about this being intense. It’s that, plus it puts me into a vulnerable position. My arms and legs are spread wide, and my hips are arched upward slightly. The bench itself can be raised or lowered, lending all sorts of decadent possibilities to what he will do with me and to me.

He makes a show out of circling me on the bench, that sexy grin on his face. When he pulls gently on his cock, I yell in frustration. “Please…”

“What do you want, Chelsea? Tell me.” The movement of his hand up and down his shaft grows faster. Tiny beads of pre-cum are visible at the tip. I lick my lips. “Tell me in detail what you want me to do to you, or I will stand here and beat off in front of you.”

“Oh!” This isn’t just teasing. The truth is in his eyes.

“I told you. I mean what I say, and I say what I mean.”

Speak now, fool! “Flog my nipples. With a softer flogger, please. Hit them. With … with your hands, and with a soft toy. Put clamps on them. Flog my pussy. Paddle my pussy.”

A huge, wicked grin slowly spreads over his face as I confess my secret desires. “What else? You’re not done. There’s more in your eyes.”

Shit. I have to say it. There’s no way around this. He senses it, and will make me tell him, or this will stop. “Fuck me,” I whisper, as huge tears spill over my lashes. “Fuck me, Slade. I want … I want your dick inside my pussy.”

Satisfaction and lust fill his eyes. “Finally. I’ve been waiting to hear that since the second you walked in here.”

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