It’s newsletter time, which means…

Rackety Kate and the Pirates

Chapter 14

A Battle of Wills

 The story so far:

We left Kate mid-orgy, with Jack and his four pirates. Everyone has a part to play – Duka is providing some sanity, Peter the seating and Chan and Harley the tortures of the damned for Jack.

Jack’s tiger gaze, fierce and golden, captured Kate’s.  “Is this what you want, pretty Kate?” His breath hitched as Harley leaned in to nuzzle his hip. “Is it?”

Kate quivered, feeling Peter throbbing high and hard inside her like a second heartbeat, his lips feathering over her shoulder, his breath hurried and hot. “Nngh,” she said. “Y-yes.”

Jack stood before her like an offering to some pagan goddess, the whole line of his body a taut harmony of bone and muscle and tawny skin. Kate’s gaze traveled from his knuckles, white with strain, where his fists were wrapped around the tree branch above his head, to the sculpted planes of his heaving chest. She loved the diagonal notches where his cobbled belly intersected with his hips, his magnificent thighs, strong and graceful and dusted lightly with golden hair, the shining honey-brown of his pubic thatch. It didn’t seem possible for him to get any harder, but he did, swelling another amazing half-inch as she watched.

What Chan and Harley were doing was so erotic she couldn’t think straight – nipping, and mouthing and nibbling, everywhere save where Jack obviously wanted it the most, if the helpless roll of his hips was any indication.

And yet, he made no sound, save for harsh panting, his eyes fixed on Kate’s, so that she was devoured by his gaze. She couldn’t fathom why it should be, but she was as much prey as if he’d been a tiger in truth and she something small and quivering, trapped beneath his heavy paw.

Kate struggled, drowning, conscious of the small voices of Ess and Tess, tiny cheerleaders. “C’mon, Katie, you can do it, you can do it!”

The slow movement of Duka’s huge palm, rubbing circles on her belly was somehow soothing. It gave her strength, confidence.

“Go on,” she said to Harley and Chan, able to achieve no more than a tortured whisper. “For God’s sake, go on!”

Want more? You can read all of Kate and see more pirates on the Rackety Kate page. Want even more than that? Join my newsletter - see below.

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Now, in case you don’t know how it works…
You and I are participating characters in these adventures, one every month. Cool, huh? By joining my newsletter list, - http://groups.yahoo.com/subscribe/deniserossetti - you get to make the decisions about our heroine’s love life (via a Yahoo Poll), and you receive each chapter a month in advance of the website. Majority rules and our girl does what she’s told. Though I have a funny feeling about Kate…I play god(dess) which pushes all my evil-type buttons, and sometimes newsletter readers get to create characters and situations. It’s all good healthy wicked fun and occasionally, there are prizes. Oh, and lots of hot, kinky sex. Yeah!At the end of every newsletter chapter, you usually find three choices or a contest question with prizes.

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Subscribers to my newsletter get to interfere with Kate’s love life. Sign up to join the fun!

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First of all, my dears, Happy Holidays to each and every one of you. However you choose to celebrate, may you and yours have a loving, safe and cheerful Festive Season. Here in Oz, the Powers That Be are encouraging us all to spend up big to stimulate the economy. There’ll be smoked salmon and prawns and ham and watermelon and stone fruit. Every year, My Beloved thinks up a different glaze for the ham and we have to guess what’s in it. I suspect there may be more than a touch of genuine maple syrup this time!

 ~~~A Gift for All of Us~~~

Last Christmas, I bought us all a charity gift, and it gave me such satisfaction to think we were helping, even in a small way, that I’ve decided to do it again. This time, I’ve chosen a gift in honour of my grandmothers - and yours. A wonderful insitution, grandparents, such a blessing in the life of a child.

The (Australian) Indigenous grandmother’s group brings together Indigenous female elders, who meet each week. Through the group, these elders are able to pass on their cultural history and provide advice to young Indigenous people. Help those in the know with the support they need to create positive change.

There’s more information here. http://www.oxfamunwrapped.com.au/Product.php?productid=111

Could I encourage you to consider sites like this in your own country? Not only for Christmas, but for every gift-giving occasion. There’s something suitable for everyone in your life – right down to a lump of manure for that crappy cousin, or a bridge for an engineer DH or a piglet for your sister or a sewing machine for grandma. Such a practical way to make a difference.

Christmas with Louise

If you’re drinking coffee, better put it down before reading any further. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

This article was submitted to a newspaper contest to find out who had the wildest Christmas dinners. It won first prize.

As a joke, my brother used to hang a pair of pantyhose over his fireplace before Christmas. He said all he wanted was for Santa to fill them. What they say about Santa checking the list twice must be true because every Christmas morning, although Jay’s kids’ stockings were overflowed, his poor pantyhose hung sadly empty.

One year I decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses and went in search of an inflatable love doll. They don’t sell those things at Walmart. I had to go to an adult bookstore downtown.

If you’ve never been in an X-rated store, don’t go! You’ll only confuse yourself. I was there an hour saying things like, “What does this do? You’re kidding me! Who would buy that?” Finally, I made it to the inflatable doll section. I told the guy behind the counter I wanted to buy a standard, uncomplicated doll that could also substitute as a passenger in my truck so I could use the car pool lane during rush hour. Finding what I wanted was difficult. Love dolls come in many different models. The top of the line, according to the side of the box, could do things I’d only seen in a book on animal husbandry. I settled for Lovable Louise. She was at the bottom of the price scale. To call Louise a doll took a huge leap of imagination.

On Christmas Eve and with the help of an old bicycle pump, Louise came to life. My sister-in-law was in on the plan and let me in during the wee morning hours. Long after Santa had come and gone, I filled the dangling pantyhose with Louise’s pliant legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies and drank what remained of a glass of milk on a nearby tray. I went home, and giggled for a couple of hours.

The next morning my brother called to say that Santa had been to his house and left a present that had made him VERY happy but had left the dog confused. She would bark, start to walk away, then come back and bark some more. We all agreed that Louise should remain in her panty hose so the rest of the family could admire her when they came over for the traditional Christmas dinner.

My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked in the door. “What the hell is that?” she asked.

My brother quickly explained, “It’s a doll.”

“Who would play with something like that?” Granny snapped.

I had several candidates in mind, but kept my mouth shut.

“Where are her clothes?” Granny continued.

“Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Gran,” Jay said, to steer her into the dining room.

But Granny was relentless. “Why doesn’t she have any teeth?”

Again, I could have answered, but why would I? It was Christmas and no one wanted to ride in the back of the ambulance saying, “Hang on Granny, hang on!”

My grandfather, a delightful old man with poor eyesight, sidled up to me and said, “Hey, who’s the naked gal by the fireplace?” I told him she was Jay’s friend.

A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by the mantel, talking to Louise. Not just talking, but actually flirting. It was then that we realized this might be Grandpa’s last Christmas at home.

The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died, who was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Louise made a noise like my father in the bathroom in the morning. Then she lurched from the pantyhose, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap in front of the sofa.

The cat screamed. I passed cranberry sauce through my nose, and Grandpa ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began administering mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. My brother fell back over his chair and wet his pants. Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the room, and sat in the car.

It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and remember.

Later in my brother’s garage, we conducted a thorough examination to decide the cause of Louise’s collapse. We discovered that Louise had suffered from a hot ember to the back of her right thigh. Fortunately, thanks to a wonder drug called duct tape, we restored her to perfect health!

All the very best to you and yours,

Denise

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Once more with feeling… Tell me if it works this time.

This is just gorgeous.

In a zoo in California, a mother tiger gave birth to a rare set of triplet tiger cubs. Unfortunately, due to complications in the pregnancy, the cubs were born prematurely and due to their tiny size, they died shortly after birth. 

The mother tiger after recovering from the delivery, suddenly started to decline in health, although physically she was fine. The veterinarians felt that the loss of her litter had caused 

the tigress to fall into a depression. The doctors decided that if the tigress could surrogate another mother’s cubs, perhaps she would improve. 

After checking with many other zoos across the country, the depressing news was that there were no tiger cubs of the right age to introduce to the mourning mother. The veterinarians decided to try something that had never been tried in a zoo environment. Sometimes a mother of one species will take on the care of a different species. The only “orphans” that could be found quickly, were a litter of weanling pigs. The zoo keepers and vets wrapped the piglets in tiger skin and placed the babies around the mother tiger. Would they become cubs or pork chops?

Take a look … you won’t believe your eyes!

I love tigers. They’re one of my favourite animals. I think they’re magnificent, much more so than a lion. Those paws the size of dinner plates, the claws like scimitars. And their colouring is glorious. There’s a touch of the hereditary guilts to it as well - my grandfather used to shoot tigers in India. Ah, it was a different world then…

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This is just gorgeous. In a zoo in California, a mother tiger gave birth to a rare set of triplet tiger cubs. Unfortunately, due to complications in the pregnancy, the cubs were born prematurely and due to their tiny size, they died shortly after birth.  The mother tiger after recovering from the delivery, suddenly started to decline in health, although physically she was fine. The veterinarians felt that the loss of her litter had caused  the tigress to fall into a depression. The doctors decided that if the tigress could surrogate another mother’s cubs, perhaps she would improve.  After checking with many other zoos across the country, the depressing news was that there were no tiger cubs of the right age to introduce to the mourning mother. The veterinarians decided to try something that had never been tried in a zoo environment. Sometimes a mother of one species will take on the care of a different species. The only “orphans” that could be found quickly, were a litter of weanling pigs. The zoo keepers and vets wrapped the piglets in tiger skin and placed the babies around the mother tiger. Would they become cubs or pork chops? Take a look … you won’t believe your eyes! I love tigers. They’re one of my favourite animals. I think they’re magnificent, much more so than a lion. Those paws the size of dinner plates, the claws like scimitars. And their colouring is glorious. There’s a touch of the hereditary guilts to it as well - my grandfather used to shoot tigers in India. Ah, it was a different world then… Subscribe in a reader or Subscribe by Email

Have you done it yet? The Christmas shopping, I mean. I haven’t even started. Aaaaargh!

My sister has it all done - and wrapped - by October. October! Grrr… One day, I’m going to hit her over the head with a Christmas tree. No jury of sisters would convict me.

In My Beloved’s family, all adults go in to a Secret Santa draw, so you only have to buy for one person. Whew! What a relief! We give the children, but that’s pure fun. I always buy them books and I simply adore choosing them.

But in my family, which is admittedly smaller, it’s pressies for all. Oh my Lord, what to get for my Mum, who insists she doesn’t want “her girls” spending their hard-earned money on little old her? More grrr… Then there’s My Beloved, who has so many clothes, he can’t close the wardrobe doors. He isn’t a gardener or a handyman either, just not interested in hardware. *sigh*

Any ideas for my mother (in her seventies), my brother-in-law the cop, or My Beloved? All suggestions gratefully received. I guess there’s always gift vouchers, but I always feel just that bit guilty about giving them. And this despite the fact they’re a genuinely sensible gift.

What do you think about gift vouchers? And people who do their Christmas shopping in October? Are you ready for Christmas? I’m not!

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I’ve just returned from a couple of days on an island off the coast here. Lord, it’s beautiful! There’s something so incredibly calming about the rhythm of the ocean, hearing the boom and the rush, watching the waves roll in - over and over and over. I like to think it’s always there, regardless of what happens in my little life. It was very good for me, that small break with a group of good friends. I’ve been a trifle stressed lately. Can’t imagine why, can you?

We sat up on a headland and watched the sun set behind the beach. I’ve seen better ones there, but this was still pretty damn nice.

The beaches are endless, absolutely magnificent. Such a gift.

Yesterday, I swam in crystal clear water, bobbling around in nice little waves - just my size! There were toddlers making sandcastles, parents with cameras, kids with boogie boards, sandy tail-waving dogs. It was hot, hot, HOT! 31C, but the sea breeze was lovely. It made all the difference.

Afterwards, we  went to the pub - it has the best view in the entire world. See below - and if you look very carefully, you might even see a prawn trawler out to sea.

I sat at a table and inhaled a G&T with plenty of lemon and ice, followed by a pub lunch of crumbed barramundi and chips and salad.  You would have liked it.

So tell me, what places in the world do you find calming? Or exhilarating, for that matter?

And BTW, Michelle Buonfiglio at Lifetime’s Romance B(uy) the book just selected UNLACED as this year’s Best Erotic Anthology! Whoohoo! Here’s the whole list.

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The winner of a signed copy of A RED HOT NEW YEAR is ~~~

Cheryl McInnis!!

Congratulations, Cheryl! Email me (deniserossetti at gmail.com) with your snail mail address. I’ll hold the prize for seven days and then redraw.

Thanks everyone for sharing your ‘first times” in honour of our first UNLACED anthology together. I loved all your stories! Some made me laugh, others made me cry, but I spent a lot of time marvelling at how different life can be - and how wonderfully strong and sensible women are. 

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Welcome to the “First Time” cross-blog. 

In honour of UNLACED, our first anthology together, Jaci Burton, Jasmine Haynes, Joey W. Hill and I are talking about our “firsts” - first kiss,  first date, first love and first break-up.  Ah… Those were the days… When I originally read the stories, I was caught between laughter and tears.  Thank all the Powers That Be I’ll never see sixteen again!

Visit each of the blogs in turn to chat about a first and check out the giveaways from each author. I’ve put an easy link for you under each story. FOUR chances to win! We’ll announce our winners on Monday, 8th December.

I’m giving away a signed print copy of A RED HOT NEW YEAR, or a download of any of my Ellora’s Cave books. You choose.

So, how did you survive your first break-up, hmm?

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First Break-Up - the Agony, the Pain, the Incredible Relief…

Jaci Burton:

My first breakup was with my first love. We’d been together for two years, had gotten engaged and I knew I was going to spend forever with him. But I was young, naive, and obviously needed to open my eyes to a few realities. So did he. He was very much a Mama’s boy. And when I bought a new car instead of saving money for a house like his mother thought I should, his mother told him I wasn’t good enough for him and he broke up with me. Even though I was crushed at the time, I really should thank her for that because no way would I have wanted to marry a 21 year old man who broke up with his fiancee because his mama told him to. Yikes!

Visit Jaci’s blog for the First Kiss stories and Jaci’s giveaway!

Excerpt from Jaci’s story, The Ties that Bind.

Jasmine Haynes:

My first break up was with Bob (see my answer to the first love question on Joey’s blog!).  It took me a year to get over him.  I also had to quit my job working for his mom because I cried every time I saw him.  At 17, you cry over everything.  I was like a watering pot.  But as much as I hurt over Bob, part of my grief was losing his mom as well.  Sometimes I look up to Heaven and think, “Thanks for believing in me, Chloe, I finally got published.”

Visit Jasmine’s blog for the First Date stories and Jasmine’s giveaway!

Excerpt from Jasmine’s story, Undone.

Joey W. Hill:

Oh, it was so horrible. I was quite the messed-up teenager (think Winona Ryder’s always despairing character in Beetlejuice, and you’ve about got the right picture of melodramatic/I want to die/my perfect life sucks angst – shudder). If I was my mother, I probably would have drowned me and started over (lol). Anyhow, I had dated this boy for several months in 10th grade. He was my first real boyfriend. My first love (see my blog and Jasmine’s for more about him) was so perfect – we didn’t even have a terrible break up. We were a long distance relationship and so mutually and amicably agreed that it was best to let one another go, though vowing always to be willing to watch out for one another if needed.

Back to my first real boyfriend. Here’s a cardinal rule – NEVER date anyone as messed up as yourself. Together we were the perfect self-esteem negative-zero, dysfunctional duo. When he got bored of me (and yes, those were his words – “I’m bored of it”), devastation ruled my life for the next several months. I did all sorts of humiliating, despicable things to win back his affections, pulling in friends to pass notes to him, sneaking past his house, arranging “chance” meetings, and cried so many tears into my pillow it’s a wonder I didn’t get face rot.

Thank God and any other responsible power, none of it worked. Eventually, a friend of mine introduced me to another guy more than willing to treat me badly and capitalize on my lack of self-respect, and life moved on. Fortunately, there are wonderful men out there, like my first love, and the man I ended up with. My husband makes me feel like a worthwhile human being every day, and all the lessons I learned from that first break up (as well as wonderful first love, and all the relationships in between) helped strengthen my relationship with him. For everything you endure or receive, there’s a reason! I’m also glad I didn’t get face rot (wink).

Visit Joey’s blog for the First Love stories and Joey’s giveaway!

Excerpt from Joey’s story, Controlled Response.

Denise Rossetti:

I went out with a guy who happened to own a vintage MG. It was a terrific car, loads of fun, but a tad - ahem - unreliable. It was also his major topic of conversation, and after a while I ran out of things to say about vintage MGs. I didn’t know much about them at eighteen. Still don’t, in fact.

I was much more interested in his friend, who, now I come to think of it, looked exactly like a racecourse spiv.

Anyway, my guy and I – do you know I can still see his face, but I don’t remember his name? Isn’t that awful? We drove off to a country picnic in the MG and part of the way home, it shuddered to a stop. “Aha!” said the MG nut, “I know what it is. The fuel line’s blocked. I can fix that.”

He leaped out, popped the bonnet and proceeded to SUCK the fuel line clear. Got that?

We drove home, and – you guessed it – he then leaped on me and attempted to clear my fuel line with his tongue.

The technique might have worked like a charm on the MG, but a petrol flavoured kiss did nothing for me. I’m funny like that. And that’s when I realized he had no sense of humour either.

That was it. Over.

Excerpt from my story, Rubies and Black Velvet.

Remember, I’m giving away a signed print copy of A RED HOT NEW YEAR, or a download of any of my Ellora’s Cave books. You choose. We’ll announce our winners on Monday, 8th December.

Tell us about your first break-up. Did you walk away sighing with relief or was your heart broken clean in two? 

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I must be an evil woman - I just adore writing villains. For example, I’m particularly fond of the disgusting Hssrda from my Phoenix Rising series. They are truly revolting, part crocodile, part human. Yuk!

In Rubies and Black Velvet, my story in the Unlaced anthology, I introduced the evil sorceress and her dragon djinn lover. Then I contrasted their wickedness and perversity with the innocence of first love.

And I bought us an image of the sorceress. (Scroll down to the excerpt.) Isn’t she wonderful? Very much as I imagine her.

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But before the excerpt, here’s another reminder about the Unlaced cross-blog. Mark your calendar! Because this is the first time we’ve appeared in an anthology together, the “J-girls” and I will be running a cross-blog on Wednesday 3rd December. Visit each of us for a “first”, plus the chance to win autographed books at each blog.It’s going to be so much fun. A real trip down memory lane. Honestly, reading our first time stories, I don’t know whether to giggle or wince - or both. *rolls eyes*

Here you go -

First Kiss: Jaci Burton - http://www.jaciburton.com/blog

First Date: Jasmine Haynes - http://www.jasminehaynes.blogspot.com

First Love: Joey W. Hill - http://www.storywitch.com/wordpress/

First Breakup: Denise Rossetti - http://www.deniserossetti.com/blog/

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 Holdercroft on the Cressy Plains, PalimpsestWhen the thunder came again and again, rolling around the tall heads of the mountains, the good folk of Holdercroft village shuddered. “They’m at it again,” they said, shaking their heads. But the tavern on the plain was warm and snug, the doors and windows shuttered against the fierce driving rain.”‘Tis the dragon djinn,” grunted old Griddle, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.”And the sorceress,” whispered his wife. She made the two-handed sign of the Sibling Moons. “Brother and Sister preserve us.”

“Seen `er once.” Griddle held out his tankard for a refill. “Ridin’ a storm cloud, the night the big tree came down, ye remember?”

“Ye were drunk,” scoffed his wife.

“Naked as a bebbe she were. All pale and long.” Griddle’s rheumy eyes took on a faraway look. “Hair down to `er waist, flyin’ like whips o’ black silk. And when she looked at me, `twas like starin’ hell in the eye. So dark, so deep…” He buried his long nose in his ale.

“Ye stupid old sot.” Griddle’s wife poked his shoulder with a bony finger. “Why would a sorceress look at ye?”

Griddle subsided, grumbling into his ale. “She did,” he muttered, almost too low to hear. “Like she wanted to chew me up and spit me out. Like she hated me for livin’.” Abruptly, he banged his empty jug down on the bar. “Gimme another!”

At evening’s end, his wife had to call for the blacksmith’s boys to carry him home through the rain on a plank.

*****

Out in the barn behind the Mackie place, John knelt at Meg’s feet, grumbling as she toweled his hair. “Give over, Meggie. You’re not my bloody mother.”

But Meg only laughed, that deep delicious chuckle that never failed to make something inside him flutter. She pulled his head down between her generous breasts and rubbed harder. Giving up, John pushed his nose deep into the warm, fragrant depths of her cleavage and inhaled with tremendous satisfaction.

Meg. His Steady Meggie.

Even at nineteen, he had no doubts. The gods had made Margaret May Mackie just for him. His center, his refuge, when the emotional tempests at home got too much. They wore a man down, his family. Between Ma and Da and his ten brawling siblings, there were times John couldn’t think straight unless he held Meggie’s hand in his.

He stroked a broad, callused palm over the luscious curve of her rump. The only girl in the Cressy Plains who could match him. Five foot eleven inches in her sturdy bare feet, Meg’s cushiony body fitted perfectly against his huge frame, her long legs and smoothly muscled thighs a comfortable cradle for his eager weight.

John fumbled a hand down to rearrange his aching cock. He wasn’t embarrassed. With Meg, everything was natural, easy. She knew him, better than he did himself, he thought sometimes. He hadn’t got inside her yet, though it was all he’d been able to think about through the long, golden summer, the pink musky flesh between her pale thighs. They’d done just about everything else though. Grinning, he traced the crescent of freckles on the inner curve of one breast with his tongue. Then he blew on the damp, creamy flesh.

Meg yelped and tweaked his ear.

One day… He leaned forward to rub his cheek against the softness of her belly through the fabric of her sensible nightgown. One day, Steady Meggie would swell with his child. They’d make their own family, one without fists and fury and slamming doors. And if they were fortunate, her frail widowed father would live to see his grandchildren, the farm in good hands, before he passed to the gods.

And John would be hers too. For the rest of their lives.

It gave him such pleasure to think of it. His life in her steady, capable hands.

*****

“What do you think they’re doing down there?” The sorceress stared broodingly across the gulf of night-dark space at the tiny twinkling lights far below. Her dwelling was older than time, built into the shoulder of the peak, carved of living stone. The chilly wind lifted the tendrils of The Sorceressblack hair that brushed her snow white hips, but even naked as she was, she didn’t feel the cold.

Huge ebony arms snaked around her waist from behind, the hint of scales under the skin abrading her flesh. “Insects,” rumbled the dragon djinn. “Who cares?”

The sorceress smiled without humor, the merest curve of thin red lips. She pressed back against her dragon lover, enjoying the monstrous size of him, towering over her by more than a foot. His massive pointed phallus burned so hot against her cool buttocks, the sensation was just this side of pain. She didn’t need to turn to know his reptilian eyes would be flaming with passion, ruby-red.

But in the end, she did turn, because she couldn’t help herself. By Shaitan, she hated this strange compulsion, her inability to be done with him, to discard him as she’d done with centuries of lovers. Fifty seasons they’d played together and fifty times she’d tried to extricate herself and failed.

In their hellish dance of lust and blood and pain, she could never be sure who’d triumph in the struggle for dominance. She knew only that she was addicted to the savage beauty of the djinn’s body, swaying under the lash, fascinated by his stubborn draconic endurance. Sometimes he was so fierce, she feared for her very life, and her slow ancient blood would run hot and heavy. Then it would be her turn to plead for mercy, cracked and broken and exalted. The razor’s edge of peril intoxicated her.

And oh, she loved his magnificent body in either form, man or dragon, black as midnight in the pits of hell. But in general, she preferred something in between, as he was now. The best of both worlds.

Stepping back, the sorceress wrapped long slim fingers around his jutting phallus, though she had no hope of closing her fist. The dragon djinn rumbled his pleasure, his forked tongue flickering over a brutal mouth. His organ writhed in her palm, undulating like a cat, the slitted tip curling back to dab a wet kiss on the back of her hand. A mortal would discover his bodily fluids burned like acid, the sorceress felt only a tingle pleasantly reminiscent of pain.

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Is this not the most gorgeous, sexy, feminine cover you’ve seen in your life? Truly, the Cover Fairy has been good to me. I don’t usually post such large images, but I just couldn’t resist that cheeky little slice of bottom. And if you think it’s pretty on your computer screen, you should see the cover flat Berkley sent me.  I can’t wait to hold the book in my hot little hands!

As you may have guessed, each story in this anthology centres on the theme of corsets. And each one is completely different from the others. Such a smorgasbord!

So because this is the first time we’ve appeared in an anthology together, the “J-girls” and I will be running a cross-blog on Wednesday 3rd December. Visit each of us for a “first”, plus the chance to win autographed books at each blog.

It’s going to be so much fun. A real trip down memory lane. Honestly, reading our first time stories, I don’t know whether to giggle or wince - or both. *rolls eyes*

Here you go -

First Kiss: Jaci Burton - http://www.jaciburton.com/blog

First Date: Jasmine Haynes - http://www.jasminehaynes.blogspot.com

First Love: Joey W. Hill - http://www.storywitch.com/wordpress/

First Breakup: Denise Rossetti - http://www.deniserossetti.com/blog/

Tomorrow, I’ll post the first of a series of excerpts, but in the meantime, here’s the back cover blurb ~

Four mistresses of erotic romance unleash their most irresistibly dangerous fantasies in this sensational anthology of lust and lingerie…

So many delicious surprises under a corset…Such fine exquisite lace. Such warm soft leather. Such a nice tight fit. Such impressive boning. Here are four all-new stories from four hot authors that erotica fans will find irresistible…

Come undone with Jaci Burton…Sixteen years is a long time to carry a torch for your ex. It’s high time
they act on long-dormant desires and reignite the flame that still burns inside them both.

Unwind with Jasmine Haynes…A wanting woman arrives at the perfect solution for exploring sensual
freedom: open herself up to an amateur photographer with no limits—and an uncensored appreciation for
the female body.

Let loose with Joey Hill…What does a hiker do when he comes upon a girl wearing only ivory panties,
and stretched out invitingly on the warm leather seat of a Harley? Anything she tells him.

Submit to Denise Rossetti…As the laces of a stunning ruby-trimmed corset tighten, so too does the grip of
an inescapable sorceress’s curse—one with the power to transform any woman into a dominating femme
fatale.

Free your inhibitions with…

 

Unlaced

 

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