BLURRED LINES

BLURRED LINES  
PARANORMAL EROTIC DEBUT from DAKOTA SKYE

Author: Dakota Skye

Genre: Paranormal Erotic Romance

Publisher: Mountain Moxie Publishing

Release date: March 13, 2014

Word count: 42, 891 words

Author Contact information:

http://www.facebook.com/DakotaSkye

http://www.twitter.com/DakotaSkye69

http://authordakotaskye.blogspot.com

Buy Links: (Paperback is delayed, currently eBook only)

All Romance Ebooks: goo.gl/M9PLhF

Amazon (all countries): myBook.to/BlurredLines

Barnes and Noble: http://goo.gl/XHzZME

Blurred Lines 

Letting go is like a death. Sierra never thought she would be caught in a love triangle between her writing partner, Alex, and the love of her life, Shane—especially because her ex-fiancé is now a ghost. Tormented with both guilt for moving on with someone else and a desire to be free of the past, she's pulled between both men. Shane struggles with accepting his death and seeing the woman he loves with someone else. Alex is determined to free Sierra from limbo and change their relationship from casual to serious, but the bond she has with Shane transcends death. One of the three needs to let go.

Only the good die young. When Shane Weston is murdered before prosecuting a key member of the Mexican drug cartel, he can't accept the idea that all of the plans he had had for his life will never come true. More than that, he can't let go of the love he has for his fiancée.

Love never dies. Sierra Daniels is crushed after Shane's death. Head writer on a successful television series, she can't get back into the groove of life. All enthusiasm for work is gone. Ready to quit everything, she travels to her cabin in Lake Tahoe in hopes of escaping everyone's expectations and disappearing for a while.

The lines between right and wrong often blur. Alexander Blaine has risked his future on a career change from DEA agent to lead consultant and writer on hit television series. Sierra's grief has shadowed everyone around her, including him, and jeopardizes both of their careers. Unwilling to accept defeat, he follows her to Lake Tahoe determined to break through the barrier enveloping her and make her see that life is still worth living.

About the Author

Dakota Skye is an author fascinated by the paranormal. After having several personal "unexplained experiences" in her life, she started exploring the idea of the "other side." Ghosts, angels, Spirit Guides…what are they and do we interact with them more than we know? In her stories, she incorporates that fascination with fantasy while always focusing on the love.

Excerpt : First ghost encounter

Murder. The word still didn't roll off her tongue with ease. 'My fiancé was murdered..." she doubted she would ever get used to saying those words. Ironic, in a twisted way, that she wrote about crime for a living.

Shane had been killed during a high profile trial of alleged members of the Mexican drug cartel. Some teenager had been arrested for the crime, but she knew he'd been a punk hired to do the deed. Of course he wouldn't talk, was probably a folk hero south of the border.

Sierra and Shane...that's how she'd come to think over their four-year relationship. Always a duo, their names always said as one entity.

Palms against the door, she pushed herself away and forced herself into the room. She needed to make a fire, unpack, settle in...her gaze landed on the framed photograph above the mantel. Shane and Sierra, arms around each other and laughing, with Lake Tahoe as their backdrop—joy and love captured in a snapshot. Now he would always be forever tan and young.

She had been in a downward spiral ever since...now she clung by her fingernails to a career she'd fought and sacrificed for all these years.

I miss you, Shane, she thought with tears in her eyes.

She shook off the dark thoughts and resumed starting the fire.

"Sierra..." Her name whispered through the house, a memory of Shane saying it so long ago.

A tingle went up her spine, lifting the hairs on the back of her neck, before caressing her skin with a feather-like touch.

Shane's touch.

If only, so many if-onlys.

She poked at the kindling, wishing they had bothered to install a gas fireplace when they'd originally bought the property.

Her cell phone sounded with the horror movie music indicating it was the dreaded Alexander calling again. How many times did she need to hit 'decline' before he got the message? Didn't the man have a life beyond work?

He thought he was some kind of god simply because he was former DEA turned writer. She snorted again and poked at the sticks in the hearth. Ass. Know-it-all. She had a Masters in Creative Writing from Berkley, not to mention three Emmy's on her desk, and an Oscar nomination for a documentary she'd produced. She was a writer, not Alexander Blaine who bragged about 'stumbling into it.'

Ignoring the phone, she started the fire, knelt back on her heels, held her hands up to the warmth, and grinned with satisfaction.

Shane had called her a certifiable city girl. Well, look at her now.

She searched the kitchen for the supplies Mary had stocked before her arrival. Grabbing a bottle of wine, she smiled.

"Mary, you know me too well," she muttered as she turned the bottle around in her hands before reaching for the corkscrew.

"You're so beautiful," Shane's voice echoed through her memory. "I'm the luckiest man in the world to be loved by you."

She squeezed her eyes closed and indulged in remembering him holding her, kissing her, making her believe in fairy tales and love stories.

"I'm here. See me." The voice startled her from indulging. Clear. Deep.

Dropping the corkscrew, she swiveled around and glanced across the room. No one. Only the empty kitchen with its clean marble countertops and gleaming pans met her vision.

"I really am losing my mind," she muttered as she skipped the glass and drank straight from the bottle.

Endless days of work on the set of a hit television series took its toll. The stress of having to mesh with a partner had given her anxiety attacks, not that she'd ever admit that to anyone. In show business, writers were only as good as the ratings of the most recent show. Fickle. Not exactly the safe life in academia she'd once envisioned for herself.

She dropped her iPhone into the stereo after making sure to put it on 'do not disturb', scrolled down to her favorite playlist, and kicked off her shoes. Music filled the room, drowning out any imagined ghost voices. Settling onto the sofa with the bottle nuzzled against her chest, she watched flames snap and crackle.

She could see Shane without closing her eyes. Often she'd imagine seeing him in a crowd, his tall silhouette a head above the others on the street. Sometimes she would see him at their favorite restaurant sitting at the bar while she picked up her take-out after another late night at the office. She'd always do a double take only to find him gone, a figment of her imagination.

Dreams were the most vivid. She would wake up and swear she'd been touched, her skin tingling where she had imagined his fingers to be.

"I miss you so much," she whispered, allowing the tears to fall. She suppressed them most of the time by staying busy and immersed in her career. But now—in this place that had once been their hideaway—emotions bubbled to the surface despite the pills designed to keep them buried. "Without you I'm just a stressed out work-a-holic. No one's ever going to love me like you did."

"You're wrong, Sierra."

She took another swig from the bottle, in a way resenting that she still heard his voice in her head. People nagged at her to snap out of it, let him go, move on; but how was that possible when she saw him in her dreams and heard him in her head?  The therapist told her that it was okay to talk to the deceased, that she could still have conversations if that made her feel better. Of course, she'd neglected to tell the doctor that often she heard a response.

Just my imagination.

"I'm here." Shane's voice.

"If only..."

A surge of energy rushed through her like an electrical shock. She closed her eyes and sighed.

A caress against her lips. She opened her eyes and saw Shane leaning over her. Despite being a lawyer who could wear a suit like an Armani model, he'd had the surfer dude look down to a tee. She grinned at the lock of blond hair falling across his tanned forehead.

"Always too handsome for your own good," she whispered to the image. "I miss you so much."

"I've never left you," he said.

She covered her eyes with her hand and shook her head. "You did, they took you from me, too young, never should have happened..."

"I'm here, Sierra. See me." He touched her hand. She felt it. Heavy. Warm.

Impossible. Too much work and too little sleep had pushed her over the edge, add pills and wine to the mix and everything felt unreal.

"I'm losing everything, you know. I can't function. The show has dropped in ratings despite some damn DEA expert slash pain in my ass who was supposed to save us from going in the ditch. I can't write anymore. Period. I can't do anything anymore, not like I used to, not without you. Now I'm going crazy."

"Believe."

"You're not here."

"I'm here, I've never left you. Look at me. It's taking all I've got to do this."

One finger at a time, she lifted her hand from her eyes. She swallowed disbelief despite the warm energy rippling through her body.

Shane leaned over her, contagious grin in place, body heavy on top of hers. She reached up, simultaneously scared and fascinated. When her fingers touched his hair, she froze.

"I don't believe in ghosts," she whispered.

"I've noticed. Do you know how hard I've been trying to connect with you?"

Frozen with fear yet driven by curiosity, she forced a whisper from her lips, "Why here? Why now?"

"You're so sad, I don't want you to be sad anymore."

Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes despite his words. "How can I not be sad? You were my world."

"That's not true." He kissed her, the touch like a breeze over her lips. "You had it goin' on when I met you, don't you remember? You ignored me because I looked like an uptight lawyer in my suit. You were at that restaurant with all of your artist friends and I couldn't stop staring. You avoided going out with me for a full month, always too busy working. Don't you remember? You never needed me. You wanted me. There's a difference."

She shook her head, unwilling to remember. Hanging onto sorrow had protected her from living without him. She didn't want to remember life pre-Shane...and she didn't want to think about life post-Shane. Limbo felt like a safer place to hide from reality.

Now she had conjured him up from memory; that had to be the only explanation. She'd taken talking to the void a step further.

"You're not real." She touched her fingers to his face even as she said the words.

"Want me to prove it to you?"

She shook her head 'no,' even as her thumb moved along his chin. The energy rippling beneath her fingertips zapped like electrical shocks, rather than a solid form. Maybe she had lost her mind, which was the only explanation she could believe.

"I see you everywhere," she whispered. 

"I am everywhere." His smile made her heart ache with longing.

She slid her fingers over his lips with fascination and relaxed against the sofa cushions. Eyes narrowed, she stared at the image above her. She wanted to believe, but her imagination had gotten her into trouble in the past.

"You're not here," she said. "I just want you to be so badly I'm seeing things."

"Believe."

"You ask a lot."

She closed her eyes and shuddered with the need pulsating through her body. Her hand moved beneath her sweater, fingers tracing over her abdomen before sliding over her bra. Where her hands drifted, ripples of energy followed, creating a trail of sensation over her skin. Desire warmed her blood.

"I miss being loved," she whispered.

"I love you." Shane's voice against her ear. "Let me touch you."

"I wish you could." She ached for him, for the love they had shared, for the laughter, and the partnership.

With a sigh, she set the wine bottle onto the floor and pulled her sweater off. Another shudder went through her body, ripple after ripple of intensity. Closing her eyes to submit to fantasy, she moved her hands over the swell of her breasts.

She felt his lips against her neck, breath against her skin. Shane's blond head bent over her, the familiar scent of his shampoo overwhelming her senses, his voice whispering about how much he loved her.

She missed making love, holding a man against her, tasting him on her tongue, feeling him move between her thighs.

"Believe in this, Sierra. I'm really here," the whispered command made her squirm against the seat and reach for the zipper of her jeans.

But the zipper slid down without her fingers touching it. Her eyes snapped open.

"Is this really happening?" She choked out the words from a throat swollen with fear while her heartbeat raced with hope. 

"Do you want it to be?" He loomed over her, a solid form, yes, but one zapping with an electrical current. "You see me."

"I see you."

He kissed her; energy sizzled between their mouths as he shoved her jeans down her legs. Where he touched, her skin reacted with an intensity born from loneliness and need. 

Rule No. 27 No woman ever made history after ordering a Bahama Mama.

Today, I am honored to announce that THE WHISKEY WOMEN have included me among their members. You may be asking, who are THE WHISKEY WOMEN?
Please read this from their website: 

The Whiskey Women

IT IS TIME TO ENTER INTO THE ERA OF THE WHISKEY WOMEN

An era that breaks free from the paradigm that sets men and whiskey together and sets a new standard for women everywhere.

It is time for us, as women, to come together to connect, share, and discover all things whiskey. It is time to give into our senses, unleash our curious nature, and explore the true Whiskey Woman in each of us. Let us break the stereotypes our way. Let us redefine the norm that has been handed down to us by men. And, most importantly, change the world for women and whiskey.

So, if you are a little daring, incredibly intelligent, cunningly creative, hopelessly witty, or relentlessly progressive, we look for you among our ranks. We need you, the unapologetic badass, to help us revolutionize a culture. A culture in which Whiskey and Women reign supreme. 

We welcome you to the realm of The Whiskey Women.

Rule no. 9 Raise your glass, and your voice, when appropriate

Women have a long history of drinking and played a major role in repealing the 18th Amendment. 

 Rule no. 17 No one ever wrote a great country song about a Long Island Iced Tea

Everyone knows that women and whiskey go back a long way, especially in my home state of Tennessee. 
(No, the woman on the right is not a relative, although the resemblance is uncanny.)

It's the dawn of a new age. Women like to drink and we like to drink whiskey. In the spirit of badassery and adventure, The Whiskey Women have welcomed me with glasses raised high. I greatly look forward to the future hi-jinks to be experienced with my sister kindred spirits as we imbibe eau de vie, the water of life, as it's called.

Rule no. 36 A bigger bottle is just an excuse to invite more friends.

This is a family picture.

Just kidding...
And do not tell Aunt Charlotte about this.

 Look for my upcoming blogs:
 ADVENTURES WITH WHISKEY & BOOKS
as I explore London, whiskey, books and whatever else catches my eye during the upcoming
London Book Fair. I feel certain that a good time will be had by all.

Rule no. 1 Enjoy whiskey.

To learn more about The Whiskey Women, click here.
Remember, if you drink, please drink responsibly. 

What Did I Do With Hilary Mantel & the Wall Street Journal?

A few months ago, my writing collaborator noticed something interesting about the author Hilary Mantel. He sent an email, basically saying...
she connects with her characters much the same way you do. 

Apparently, Ms. Mantel understands the characters she writes about via an almost supernatural connection. Imagine my surprise when the following showed up in the Wall Street Journal's Speakeasy last week. For the new WSJ Book Club, Hilary Mantel chose my question as one of the questions from readers. 

My brush with literary greatness, and I could not be any more delighted!  

Could you share more insight as to how she finds the ‘voice’ of each character? 

Also, your interest in the supernatural is intriguing & I want to know more. — Hunter Jones

To find the voice, I listen! Tudor officials often dictated their letters; it gives us some insight into how they spoke and thought, though most of the preserved letters are on public and not private topics. Mostly you have to work out, from actions, the habits of thought that precede them. Then from the thoughts to the actual words, the quirks of expression, the distinctive tone of each character…. I think what you do is open a space for your guest. You learn to wait. They show up when they’re ready: That is to say, when you know enough, when you’ve learned all you can, when you are mentally prepared. The effort is in the preparation. You cook the feast and lay the table. You hope they’ll stay talking till the small hours.

I think you can’t understand the past unless you can enter, imaginatively, into a mindset which is alien to that of most present-day secular rationalists. The world, to me, appears a very complicated place. I believe that what we can see is only a part of what there is to be seen: that our senses benefit from a bit of stretching: that minds should be exercised, and that reductionism is no fun at all. I try not to judge the people I write about; I just try to be at their disposal, for the while. So if they are Roman Catholics, incense wafts about me. If they are Calvinists, I hope to be one of the Elect. If they believe in ghosts, I am haunted. You must be flexible in this way, it seems to me. If you are fixated on your own experience and judgment, you are not going to be happy as a novelist. The whole point is to become “other,” on a temporary basis, of course. And if you are too absorbed in listening to yourself, your characters will not speak.

It’s like acting. Except that the play may go on for a decade.

Thank you Hilary Mantel for taking the time to explain your writing process. And thank you WSJ for making it easy for readers to connect with our favorite authors. This is better than taking a picture because it is immortalized in print. Here's the entire article. Please take a look. 
http://blogs.wsj.com/speakeasy/2014/02/26/wsj-book-club-hilary-mantel-answers-questions-on-wolf-hall/

CONSTRUCTING MARCUS by DANIELLE DEVOR

 

Welcome to the Book Tour & Giveaway for Constructing Marcus by Danielle DeVor. You can find Danielle's complete tour schedule at MythBehaving Book Tours.

Sixteen-year-old ghost hunter, Emma Hoffman thought that moving into an old Victorian was going to be awesome– ghosts galore.

Much to her delight, she discovers that the house is haunted—not by a ghost, but by a construct (a spirit created to be a servant). As she gets to know Marcus, the construct, he asks her to help him avenge his maker and find her killer. Emma’s not too sure this is a good idea, she’s a ghost hunter after all, not a detective, but she agrees to help him anyway.

While trying to discover more information about the killer, Emma begins to have feelings for Marcus- feelings she isn’t ready to admit. Then the sorcerer who killed Marcus’s maker shows up at Emma’s house with an insane plan to capture Marcus and absorb his power- Emma isn’t having it. Marcus is hers.

When the killer performs a spell that begins to steal Marcus’s life force, Emma risks losing him. It’s a race against time for Emma to figure out how to stop the sorcerer and his spell before Marcus fades away and disappears from her life forever.

 

Danielle DeVor

Danielle DeVor spent her early years fantasizing about vampires and watching “Salem’s Lot” way too many times. After living briefly in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, she moved back to her hometown to write. When not writing and reading about weird things, you will find her hanging out at the nearest coffee shop, enjoying a mocha frappuccino.

Danielle has been on a writing roll this year! With the release of Tail of the Devil, Constructing Marcus and Sorrow’s Point she already has three books out.

You can find Tail of the Devil and Sorrow’s Point at Amazon.

 

 

Buy Links for Constructing Marcus

 

     

 

 Giveaway

Win one of two prizes:

ONE - $10 Amazon Gift Card

ONE - eCopt of TAIL OF THE DEVIL by Danielle DeVor

Must be 13+ to enter.

A Rafflecopter Giveaway

 

Danielle's links:

Danielle's Website

Danielle on Twitter

Danielle on Facebook

Danielle on Goodreads

This tour is brought to you by

Dishing with Elodie Parkes about Candy Hearts & The Flower Box

Thank you for inviting me to the blog today with my new release romance books.

The Flower Box and Candy Hearts, are released very close together, February 7 and 14 by Hot Ink Press.

Contemporary, erotic romance, and without my usual twist of paranormal, fantasy or magic, I’ve enjoyed writing these love stories. They are both Valentine’s Day oriented stories, but can be read anytime. Although they fit into the category of erotic romance, because the bedroom door is open, they are classic romance stories with happy endings.

The Flower Box

The Flower Box

Alice longs for love. Oliver wants to give her flowers and candy until he thinks she has another lover. Will his jealously drive him away from Alice or straight into her arms?
Candy Hearts (February 14) a Hot Ink Single

Tom found a new job, but can he find love?
Working in a surf coast hotel seems like the remedy for his previous unhappiness, but as Valentine’s Day approaches, Tom realizes he’s lonely, and looks around for someone to love.

What’s hot about The Flower Box?
Oliver,
• he’s not afraid to admit to Alice that he finds her irresistible
• he’s very sexual and physically strong
• he’s centered, happy with what he does

The story is about two people who could pass you on the street. You might look at Oliver because he’s gorgeous, you might look at Alice because she’s pretty and has an aura of sadness to begin with, but they are real people. Their jobs are not unattainable. There’s no billionaire Cinderella story here. It could happen to you.
What’s hot about Candy Hearts?
• The main female character, she smolders, and Tom the main male character he’s a sexy sweetheart. Tom’s the lovely blue eyed guy next door. He’s a keeper.
• The story because it reflects things that happen in life. Often they don’t get resolved, people pass like ships in the night, in stories we get the happy ending.
*****
Author Interview:
Are you working on another book right now?
I’m working on three books, right now, a contemporary romance that has a mystery thread through it, a contemporary ménage romance, and a contemporary shifter romance.
Naturally, they are all erotic love stories, with HEA. I have to have that in my books
Why do you write the genre?
I want love in the world. I want soft sighs and whispers. I want care and understanding between people. (Utopia I know) I like happy endings. There are so few in real life, it seems to me, and so I write them. I write the hot sex that the characters would fall into when in a loving relationship. Not very politically correct I know, but my characters are physically beautiful (mainly) and I do that on purpose because humans like beauty, they aspire to it, and beautiful people are like flowers for me. They adorn the world with loveliness. Speaking as a heterosexual woman nothing is better than a gorgeous man with a sculpted body and lovely eyes for me. Mmm maybe trees, trees are great, the ocean, that’s fabulous too. Music, music lifts my soul. There you go I’m in love with beauty in general.
What do you enjoy most about writing?
I enjoy the way my characters become so real to me and their worlds that I create. It’s almost magic the way the story setting just unfolds for me. I can actually see the places in my mind. I see the place better than the faces of my characters. I hear my characters and know them, but often their face is not clear. Maybe that’s because I feel their heart and know that readers will assign a different face to them according to their imagination.

What do you like the least?
Marketing. It’s so time consuming and quite soul destroying when you’d rather be writing. I always thought that publishers helped with marketing, that’s hardly true at all. (Smiles)

Would you like to see any of your books as movies?
None of them. I’d be there fussing about the script staying true to the book, or the casting, especially the casting. (Laughs).

What things do you like to do to relax?
I find writing relaxing, but I also like to get out into the countryside near where I live. I enjoy visiting the historic places across the country too. I read, watch movies and I love music. I’m often singing along with something as I drive.

Do you have another job as well as writing?
Yes, I have to. I work for an antiques emporium.

If you could have one super power in your existence, what would it be?
It would have to be healing.

What makes you cry?
Cruelty. To people, but cruelty to animals is the worst for me. Animals are so innocent. When I see dogs that have been abused I always cry, because I know dogs feel the same emotions as humans. It’s the same for any animal I see that’s been abused, I just weep. Many animals have been assigned lesser status than human beings and now scientists are discovering they are highly intelligent, communicative, highly sensed beings in the same way humans are.

What makes you laugh?
Not a lot these days (smiles)

If money were no object, where would you most like to live?
I live in the country I want to, maybe I’d move down the coast to Cornwall or Devon where the surf coast is.

What kind of car would you have if money was no object?
I have the car I want. I’m a Jeep person and always drive them.

What’s your favorite food?
Fruits and potatoes, (cooked any way.)

Favorite color?
I have two I love, oh wait three, blue, purple and green. (All the shades of each) I love color.

Can you think of a song or piece of music that could be your theme tune?
I used to say Coldplay: Speed of Sound, now I think maybe its Primitive Radio God, ‘Standing Outside A Broken Phone Booth With Money In My Hand’
One half verse sticks in my mind so vividly,
A life is time, they teach us growing up
The seconds ticking killed us all
A million years before the fall
I feel we are bound by time, societally constructed time, and it’s so controlling and restrictive.

Just answer these questions as quickly as possible.
Chocolate or vanilla?
Neither, I like lemon and orange
Dog or cat?
Dog and cat and horse and there’s an owl in the woods near where I live that I’m fond of.
The film or the book?
both (sorry)
Jeans or skirt?
jeans, but sometimes little black dress
Beach or Snow resort?
countryside and beach
Heels or flats?
Boots, depends where I’m going if they are heeled or flat
Stockings or pantyhose?
Stockings, love them
Top or bottom?
Er…both if I can get it…
Is there anything you would like to say to your readers?
Thank you for reading my books. I write from the heart so you get a piece of it every time you read one of my stories. (Smiles)



Characters Interview

Welcome to Oliver and Tom, Oliver stars in The Flower Box and Tom in Candy Hearts
Oliver, tell us something about Alice, how would you describe her in a few words?

Alice is just great. She’s the love of my life so I’m biased in my opinion I guess you know. She’s brave, capable, and independent. She likes the park and water. She’s very pretty, slender, intelligent, kind, and generous, and she treats everyone and thing well. She’s great at her job and runs her own business. She’s sexy. (He grins)

Tom, describe your loved one in a few words. (Tom’s asked us not to give away her name, when you read the story you’ll know why)
Very sexy, giving, clever, thoughtful, a great lover, knows what she wants or needs to do and goes for it. She’s full of surprises, she loves me, and she works hard at her jobs. I couldn’t live without her now.

So guys tell the readers about how you met the leading ladies in your stories.
Tom: I met my love in a coffee shop. She was a waitress. On one occasion, she gave me a look that nearly melted the chair I was sitting on besides parts of me touching it. (laughs)
Oliver: I met her in person in a flower and candy shop. I’d seen her before but not close up.
Can you describe when you first knew you were in love?
Oliver tell us about when you knew you loved Alice.
It might be a spoiler if I told all. I thought I’d lost her, that woke me up with a jolt. (smiles)
What about you Tom?
It was hard to let myself fall in love, I think I loved her very soon though and just pushed it away.
Is there anything you would have changed about the story, your name, job, story setting, anything?

Tom: I’ve never thought about that. I don’t mind my name and in the story I get to change jobs. I used to hate what I did so that was great. The setting goes with the job, and is a cool place, I think.

Oliver: I like my name. I love my job. It’s not what I set out to do when I went to college, but it’s great. The setting for the story wouldn’t be able to change, that’s where I work and where Alice works, and where we live, plus it’s a cool city. (smiles)

Will each of you choose an excerpt from the story that you enjoy?
Oliver: Is there a rating level on your blog? Mine has to be a love scene.
Tom: Mine too. (laughs)

Just choose what you want, and thank you both for coming along today.
Oliver: Thank you. It’s been fun.
Tom: I’ve enjoyed meeting you, so thank you.


Excerpt from The Flower Box 18+ rated

Alice took him down the narrow alley that led to the back of her shop. Halfway down there Oliver stopped. He guessed she was taking him home to bed, but the kisses they’d shared ignited a need in him that was surprising. He had to kiss her again right then.
Alice turned to him as he stopped walking. The small white walkway lights shone on her hair.
Oliver’s cock stirred as he pulled her close. He found her mouth and grazed her bottom lip with his as he closed his eyes. He pushed her back against the wall, then took her hands and held them down locking his fingers with hers. He slid his tongue against her lips until she opened her mouth. The feel of her hips against him made him sigh. Oliver kissed her as his cock hardened and strained against his jeans. He pressed the hard column against her stomach.
Her moan reached his ears as he kissed down her neck.
He wanted to suck her soft skin and feel her pussy around his fingers. He let go of her hands to lift her skirt.
She pressed her neck against his face as he sucked.
He pulled her skirt up around her waist and kissed up to her ear. “I want you,” he whispered into her ear and she gasped. Oliver pushed her pantyhose down around her thighs. He kissed her lips, and felt her part them to moan as he slid his hand between her legs. She was wet and his cock jerked. His breath came in short gasps as he pushed two fingers into her pussy. The feel of her inner muscles around his fingers sent a spike of sensation through his cock. He thought he’d come right then as his hips thrust in response to her opening her legs wider for his hand. He murmured against her mouth. “You feel so good. I can’t wait to get you home.”
Alice kissed him. “Let’s go. I’m desperate for you.”
Her words made his cock leak. He wondered if he could make it to her car. He took his fingers from her pussy and lingered with his fingertips against her clit.
She held his shoulders and kissed him hard.
Oliver took his fingers from her clit and rested his face against hers. “Sorry, Alice, does anyone else use this path?”
Her voice was low as she answered against his cheek. “Not usually.”
He hugged her. “That’s good.” He moved from her
She made a little sound as he pulled her pantyhose up.
He held her face and kissed her tenderly. “Let’s go.”
*****
Copyright Elodie Parkes 2014

Excerpt from Candy Hearts 18+

Candy Hearts

She watched him closely.
Tom saw her gaze trace his mouth, then his body. The atmosphere between them charged as she broadcast attraction signals. He edged his hand along the tabletop so that he might touch hers when she reached for her water glass.
It happened as they stared at each other.
Tom’s cock hardened as the prickle of desire flew along his arm from her touch. He saw her eyes darken and she leaned into him. He took hold of her hand then, locking fingers with hers. He had to kiss her. He raised his other hand, slid it gently along her cheek, and brought her head to his.
The kiss was devastatingly sexy. His cock, rock hard now, pushed at his suit pants. Sky’s lips parted for his tongue. He kissed her, and the steady hum of the restaurant guests’ chatter receded. Surrounded by the scent of her silky hair and softness of her skin, Tom took his time. He held her head to his until he felt her try to move from the kiss, away from him. He let her end the kiss, but he tightened his grip on her hand. As he lifted his head he realized their food had arrived and the server waited by the table for them to end the kiss. He smiled and let go of her hand.
She smiled too leaning back so that the plate could be placed on the table in front of her.
As they ate little bites of their steaks, Tom again asked for her real name.
He swallowed. “I’d love to know your name. Seriously, after that kiss, I can’t keep calling you Sky.” He saw her hesitate, and then she answered.
*****
Copyright Elodie Parkes 2014

About the author:
Elodie Parkes is a British author writing romance, erotic, contemporary, and often with a twist of mystery, paranormal or suspense. Her books are always steamy, cool stories and hot love scenes.
Elodie lives in Canterbury with her two dogs. She works in an antique shop by day and writes at night, loving the cloak of silent darkness that descends on the rural countryside around her home.
Elodie writes for, Hot Ink Press, Moon Rose Publishing, Eternal Press, and Evernight
She has also released titles as an individual indie author.

Find Elodie online: Blog Tumblr Facebook Twitter Google + Pinterest YouTube Amazon USA Amazon UK Smashwords Barnes and Noble ARe Bookstrand Evernight Manic Readers The Romance Reviews

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In the Spotlight - Hunter S. Jones

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