Friday, October 26, 2012

A Haunted Garden Hop - Do you like to be scared?

This year I won’t be dressing up in my usual clown costume and driving my kids from one neighborhood to the next. We've recently moved into a new home and so this year I’m staying in to greet the Trick-or-Treaters. My boys are on there own. So when deciding what to watch while the little neighborhood ghouls ring the bell, I thought I’d make a list and share some of my favorite horror perfect for an eerie Halloween evening. I don’t really have a favorite on this list, but I do have two favorite authors of horror. Clive Barker and Dean Koontz have always been able to give me a nightmare after reading their books.

Do you have a favorite horror author or a favorite movie? Leave a comment and win any digital title on my backlist. If you love paranormal romance, I’ll be leaving comments on this blog post of excerpts from my books. Most of my books are erotic and are intended for adult readers.

Alien (1979, Directed by Ridley Scott)
Aliens (1986, Directed by James Cameron)
A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984, Directed by Wes Craven)
Carrie (1976, Directed by Brian De Palma)
Friday the 13th (1980, Directed by Sean S. Cunningham)
Halloween (1978, Directed by John Carpenter)
Hellraiser (1987, Directed by Clive Barker)
Interview With The Vampire (1994, Directed by Neil Jordan)
Jaws (1975, Directed by Steven Spielberg)
Pet Sematary (1989, Directed by Mary Lambert)
Poltergeist (1982, Directed by Tobe Hooper)
Psycho (1960, Directed by Alfred Hitchcock)
Serpent and the Rainbow (1988, Directed by Wes Craven)
Scream (1996, Directed by Wes Craven)
The Amityville Horror (1979, Directed by Stuart Rosenberg)
The Evil Dead (1981, Directed by Sam Raimi)
The Exorcist (1973, Directed by William Freidkin)
The Fly (1986, Directed by David Cronenberg)
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974, Directed by Tobe Hooper)
The Shining (1980, Directed by Stanley Kubrick)

Thank you for stopping by the Haunted Garden Halloween Hop. Please continue on and visit these Wild Rose Press authors.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Hot In Handcuffs - Bog Hop - win a book!

The following post contains an explicit excerpt. 18+ Only.

So sorry I am late with my post! Thank you for stopping by my blog.
I love a hot story filled with whips, chains, floggers...and cuffs. I don't care if the cuffs are for kink of if my hero just likes to take a bit of his job home with him. I have several stories featuring hot cops with and without handcuffs.
Miranda's Rights, The Cougar Meets Her Master, Cinderella Undercover, Double Bang!, To Serve and Protect, and my personal fave--Rough Justice.
Hot cop, sexy baseball player and a woman who knows how to get between them.

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Rough Justice
by KyAnn Waters
Available at Ellora's Cave!
To Purchase:

It is not Roxanne’s night…but it soon will be.
Five miles from home, she runs out of gas. Unable to reach her best friend Jay on his cell, she calls local sheriff--and current object of lust--Ivan Soto. On the dark and deserted country road, Ivan shocks Roxie by forcing her to assume the position--against her car with her legs spread.
When Jay rushes to Roxie’s to make sure she’s made it home safely, he discovers her in the custody of Sheriff Soto, experiencing a little Rough Justice. Jay wants Roxie to have a good time, but if Ivan wants to frisk her further, he’ll have to learn to share.


Shit, did he really want to go in if she was fucking Sheriff Soto?

Of course she was getting banged by the fuzz.

Jay shoved open the door and leapt out. "Fuck it." He slammed the truck door and strode up the walk. In the three years that she'd lived here, he'd never knocked and he wasn't about to start now. Adrenaline flowed hot, nerves fired and his chest tightened. Sexual tension coiled in his gut and his cock swelled. His mouth watered and part of him, the part that didn't want to beat the shit out of the sheriff, wanted to catch her in bed with another man.

His hands always shook on the first pitch of a game. They trembled now as he fit the key into the lock. The handle turned easily and the door cracked open. He stepped into the house, the rapid drumming of his heart pounding in his ears. He tried to listen for sounds of sex over his own labored breathing as he closed then locked the door.

What was he doing?

Could he walk into her bedroom? How would she react? What if Sheriff Soto pulled his gun and shot his ass? Great, professional baseball player dead at twenty-six. Walked in on local sheriff fucking hot exotic dancer. Baseball player died with his balls in his hand. Literally.

Jay reached down and stroked his cock through the worn denim. He and Roxie had once talked about bringing a third person into the bedroom, but they'd spoken of another female, one of the strippers from the club where Roxie danced. Never had they considered another male. Jay wouldn't have thought the idea appealing. Tonight, however, he wanted in her bedroom, regardless of who else might be there.

Contents from Roxie's purse were scattered on the floor. He continued to walk toward her bedroom then paused when he noticed light spilling into the hall. Jay followed it like a beacon, both excited and apprehensive about what he'd see. As he neared, Roxie's distinctive sounds of orgasmic bliss floated from the room. His woman was a moaner.

He stood in the doorway.

Ah fuck. Roxie wasn't his woman anymore. She was Sheriff Soto's woman.

The heady scent of sex permeated the air. Roxie's eyes widened and locked on Jay but she couldn't speak. She sat at the foot of the bed with her thighs spread wide. Soto stood before her--his thick cock in her mouth as he crammed six inches of his baton in and out of her cunt.

Roxie moaned again and her eyes slid closed, whether from pleasure or frustration over not being able to speak, Jay didn't know. Her heavy lids parted and their gazes met again. With her arms cuffed behind her back, she had no choice but to continue sucking Soto's prick into her mouth.

Jay wanted her sucking on his.

"I let myself in."

"What the fuck?" Soto yanked his cock from her mouth, simultaneously pulling the baton from her pussy as he spun. "Get the fuck out of here!" He held the baton like a weapon.

Change headline. Baseball player bludgeoned to death with bat.

"I hope you washed your...stick...before shoving it into my girlfriend."

Now that Roxie could speak, she whispered, "Jay."

Soto glanced back to Roxie. "Do you live with him?"

"No, she doesn't," Jay said and entered the room. Sweat trickled down his spine. Shit! He'd wanted in this bedroom but the situation could become volatile. Soto glared, not that Jay blamed him. With Roxie handcuffed, thighs spread...hell, Jay would be pissed too if another man walked in. Too bad. "She left a message on my voicemail and I came to make sure she found a ride." Jay stopped beside Soto.

Their eyes locked and a satisfied grin stretched Soto's mouth. "She did."

"I can see that." Her flushed skin glowed from orgasm and her hair fell about her shoulders in sexy tangles. Roxie was aroused and waiting for more cock. Wetness glistened on her pussy and damn if Jay didn't want to lick her clean.

"You should've called first," she said.

"I did. Twice."

"I didn't hear my cell phone ring."

"With your hands cuffed behind your back and the way you were swallowing Soto's cock, you wouldn't have been able to answer anyway."

"I'm sorry, Jay."

He shrugged. "You don't owe me an apology. You can fuck whoever you want." He touched her cheek and drew his finger along her jaw. "Do you want to fuck me?"

"Look, Jay, I know you used to date her," Soto wrapped a fist around his engorged shaft, "but she's busy tonight."

Her gaze jerked to Ivan. "Don't treat me like a booty call. And I don't take appointments."

Soto turned to Roxie. "What are you saying? Do you want me to leave?"

"No, I don't." She glanced back at Jay. "This is way beyond awkward." She turned to Ivan again. "Can you uncuff me?"

"No, don't." Jay slowly lowered the zipper on his jeans. Having gone commando, his cock sprang free. "We can share."

"No fucking way," Soto said. "I don't fuck in front of other guys."

Leave a comment if you'd like an ecopy of any of my books containing a hot cop!
Any comment will do. Tell me your favorite food, or better, your favorite place to vacation. I type this as I vacation on the sunny San Diego coast. 

(I'll draw a winner for every five comment, so spread the word.) roughjustice_2x3.jpg picture by KyAnnWaters

Monday, July 09, 2012

Hot Jocks In July Blog Hop

I'm giving away a copy of Striker!

So if you've seen my past blog posts, you know I'm a lover of hot men with wicked skills on the pitch. Strikers, sweepers, stoppers, keepers...

There is no hotter summer fun than taking in an MLS game. the guys are aggressive and game is fast. The crowds are loud and the excitement is addicting. And we haven’t even talked about those hard calves, long sinewy thighs, muscular arms, and corded abs. Forwards sprinting down the field, intricate footwork, scoring by the strikers and impossible saves by the keepers. Not sure what a striker, sweeper, stopper or keeper is? Here are the basics.

Striker – A team’s power scorer.

Forwards – Players who score goals – the power scorers are called Strikers

Midfielders – players between the forwards and the fullbacks

Stoppers – The stopper is good at stopping attacks. The stopper is strong and tough and helps defenders mark the opposing teams striker.

Fullbacks – defenders closest to their goal

Sweepers – Sweepers are aggressive defenders. The sweeper stops breakaways and “sweeps” the ball, clearing with long kicks.

Goalkeeper “keeper” – defends the goal

Do you have a favorite sport? A favorite player?

Leave a comment for a chance to win a copy of Striker!


For a list of participating blogs, click here

Pick up my app for Istore here.

Or my App for Android Here.

Sunday, July 08, 2012

Sunday Summer Hottie - Cesc Fàbregas

FC Barcelona has their share of hotties on the pitch. Take a look at midfielder Cesc Fàbregas. Yep, he is definite inspy for the next story.

Determination - yeah we like that in a guy

Passion for the games he plays.

Yeah, well I just love soccer players and their legs. all sinew and muscle. Washboard abs, and for guys who don't use their hands ;) they have amazing upper body strength. 

Friday, July 06, 2012

Free on Kindle! To Bed a Montana Man

I've released my story To Bed A Montana Man on kindle and you can get it for free!

To bed this Montana Man, she just might have to become his whore …

Allison Lake boarded an Iron Horse bound for the Montana Territory. She escaped an unwanted marriage only to find her herself seeking employment at the Dusty Rose brothel.

Rancher and widower, TJ Bester isn’t interested in love. But a man has needs. When his friend, madam of the Dusty Rose asks for a favor, he takes a young whore home to help with his children. But Allison isn’t what she seems and nothing he expected.

Allison found a wild and rugged cowboy…but he fires her temper as much as her passion. She should find a man with a gentle hand…but she wants TJ. Even if it means becoming his whore.

Author’s Note: To Bed a Montana Man is a sensual romance with some heated love scenes. This book is not erotic.

Sunday, June 17, 2012

Sunday Soccer Hottie - Kaka

One name says it all - Kaka

Ricardo Kaka, the beast. so damn beautiful. He may be a pretty boy, but he has mad skills on the field. He's hot, powerful, aggressive and knows how to score. Yet, he's so cool. It's easy to see why soccer players are my inspy.

Saturday, June 16, 2012

An Improper Wife - Blog Tour

Join me and Tarah Scott on an upcoming tour for An Improper Wife!

And you know I love a giveaway! Join me for chances to win.
more information coming soon

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Sexy Sunday Soccer Hottie

Who ever thought Strikers, with their long legs and wicked runs, were the hottest players to hit the pitch? Okay, it was probably me, but I'm equal opportunity admirer. Take Spaniard Aitor Ocio, he has to be one of the most beautiful men on the planet. Talk about inspiration for writing!

Friday, June 08, 2012

Special Guest Suz deMello

Please welcome my special guest Suz deMello
I love a sexy vamp and can't wait to sink my teeth into her latest release! To tease and tempt, here is a little taste.

She had to marry a monster…
Rumors had followed the chieftains of Clan Kilborn for centuries. Said to be descended from the Viking Berserkers, they were ferocious in battle, known for tearing off the heads of their enemies and drinking their blood.

But English noblewoman Lydia Swann Williston would marry Kieran, Laird Kilborn, to bring peace to the Kilborn lands after the horror of Culloden and the brutal pacification. A widow, she also brought needed wealth to Clan Kilborn. For her part, eighteen-year-old Lydia wanted children. With her husband killed at Culloden, she would make a new life in the Highlands.

The old chieftain of Clan Kilborn also died in battle, and she hoped that the new young Laird would lack his ancestors' ferocity.

She was wrong.


Excerpt, Chapter One

 “The Kilborns are great warriors, rumored to be descended from Viking berserkers.” Colonel Swann paced the drawing room, his boots soundless on the thick rugs.

Lydia’s belly clenched and she drew a frightened breath. “Berserkers! The savages who raided our shores, murdering monks and, er…attacking women?”

The colonel stared at her as though a potted plant had decided to speak. Not surprising, since Lydia had always been known in their family as the quiet one.

“The same,” he said. “And the Kilborn clansmen have intermarried for generations. Animals.” He tugged at his tight cravat. Out of uniform, dressed as a town gentleman, Lydia thought her cousin lost some of his edge. Scowling, he continued, “By this marriage we seek to dilute the Kilborn blood and weaken the line.”

“Weaken the line, sir?” Lydia’s mother, Henrietta, raised a brow. “Do you suggest that my daughter’s lineage is flawed? Ours is one of the noblest families in the kingdom.”

“True,” he said. “By adding Lady Lydia’s noble blood to the Kilborn line, we will civilize the wild Highlanders.”

Lydia tried to look civilized and noble, but couldn’t stop twisting the handkerchief in her lap. She rubbed its black edging, a reminder of her status as a widow. “You want me to marry an animal. A barely civilized wild man.”

“The Crown would take your selflessness as a particular favor,” her cousin said.

She lifted her brows. “Indeed.” As a general’s daughter, duty pulled at her blood.

“‘Tis a perfect solution. ‘Tis easier to pacify by marriage than by the sword. All parties will benefit.” His glance strayed to the bodice of Lydia’s gown. In half-mourning, she wore gray muslin trimmed with black piping. “You must desire children. The Highlander is doubtless, uh, lusty.”

She pursed her lips. She’d loved William, but hadn’t grasped why others made such a fuss about marital relations. But she did want children and had planned to have several. “You want me to marry a warrior who may have killed my husband at Culloden Moor,” she said. “I can’t do that.”

Colonel Swann remained silent but looked uneasy as Lydia’s mother crossed the room. “Your late husband,” Henrietta said and sat on an ottoman next to Lydia.

When her mother took Lydia’s hand, she couldn’t control the trembling. At eighteen, she knew she simply wasn’t brave.

Unlike her mother, who now peered into Lydia’s eyes. “Child, what else will you do? Of course, as a widow, you can refuse. But another marriage may make you happy.”

“Do I have to marry a wild Scotsman? Leave my country and everything I know?”

“Of course not. But you are already acquainted with all the other eligible males of our class, and chose William over all.”

“That’s so.” Lydia remembered her days of attending parties and balls in London a scant three years ago. She sighed.

“You’ll bring great wealth,” the colonel said. “And by your marriage, Kilborn will be spared the pacification efforts that other clans and chieftains suffer. You’ll be valued and honored.”

“I have my portion and William’s, but I am not particularly wealthy,” Lydia said.

“Not by London standards, but for an impoverished Highland chieftain, you are a rich prize.”

“Lovely.” Lydia stood and walked to the window, her voluminous skirts rustling.

Below in the garden, she could see her brother playing with one of his sons. She watched George pick up Andrew, toss the giggling child into the air and catch him before they collapsed in a laughing heap together on the sunlit lawn.

Her heart tripped. She might never see George and Andrew again. But she might become that happy parent, could have babies of her own to enjoy.

She turned to face her mother. “I’ll do it.”

Kieran, Laird Kilborn, strode along the upper wall-walk of his castle, his mood as dark as the midnight sky above. Below him, the sea crashed with the threat of a storm. His retainers scattered at the sight of their new laird’s frown, for Kieran was known to show his temper. His own father had borne a scar on his forehead from a tankard a young Kieran had thrown when the princeling had been but four.

Kieran pinched the bridge of his nose, staring out over Clan Kilborn’s crofts and lands, lit only by moonlight. His lands, now, following the deaths of his father and older brother at Culloden. An unexpected burden—his lands and his responsibility.

“Ye could look forever, but nothing will change.” Euan’s soft voice intruded upon Kieran’s dangerous mood. “That is, nothing will change unless ye marry the Sassenach lassie.”

Kieran turned, remembering to soften his frown. No one else would dare to disturb his thoughts, but Euan was different. The castle’s steward, he’d been old when Kier was born.

“Aye, the reprisals are cruel.” Kieran rubbed his hand over the sturdy stone battlement.

“They will only get worse. The Sassenachs are determined to break all of the Highlands and to destroy the clans who supported the bonny prince. ‘Tis a stroke of luck that the Swan wants you to wed the lassie.”

“Why, though? What’s the benefit to the Sassenach colonel?”

The smaller man shrugged. “We are a remote holding. ‘Tis easier to pacify us by marriage than by war, and far less costly.”

“I’ll never give up tartan or sword.” A thin, chilly breeze lifted Kieran’s dark hair off his shoulders. He drew his plaid, vividly patterned in red, yellow and two shades of blue, more tightly around him.

“Wed the Swan’s cousin and ye willnae have to.”

“I had not thought to wed yet, with everything so…unsettled.”

“Truly? There’s a certain lassie who’s set her cap for ye.”


“Er, I was thinking of Moira.”

“Oh, that one.” Kieran dismissed Moira with a wave of his hand. “She must know that Culloden changed everything, including her expectations.”

“Ye must secure the succession.” Euan’s dark, haunted eyes searched Kieran’s face. “I promised your father that I would see to it.”

“And would he have wanted me to marry outside our blood?” Kieran asked. His grand-uncle Euan knew more of the secrets of his family than did Kieran himself.

“Possibly not.” Euan looked troubled. “But marriage to the Sassenach lady will provide money, safety and heirs.”

“And what shall I do when the dark thirst takes me? Succor myself at my lady’s throat?”

“There are other ways.” Euan’s eyes were hooded and unreadable in the moonlight. “Other women—”

“No! ‘Tis like unfaithfulness. What of my honor?”

“There is no honor when the dark curse seizes us.”

“I must find a way, for the clan.”

“Then ye’ll marry the Sassenach wench?”

“‘Tisn’t so simple. The laird’s consort isnae merely a juicy quim or a fertile ewe. She must be more.”

Euan shrugged. “She’s a widow, managed her own household.”

“Hmm.” Kieran took a deep breath of the midnight air, scented with the tang of the nearby sea and the crofters’ hay. “Aye then, I’ll do it.”

Like what you read?

Best-selling, award-winning author Sue Swift, a.k.a Suz deMello, has written over fifteen novels, plus several short stories and non-fiction articles. She writes in numerous genres including romance, mystery, paranormal, historical, contemporary comedy and erotica. She’s a freelance editor who’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Ai Press, Liquid Silver Books and Etopia Press. She also takes on private clients.
Her books have been favorably reviewed in PW, Kirkus and Booklist, attained the finals of the RITA and reached the top ten on a bestseller list.
A former trial attorney, she resides in northern California. Her passion is world travel, and she’s left the US over a dozen times, including stints working overseas for many months. Right now, she's working on her next manuscript and planning her next trip.
Her blog is at Find her reading picks @ReadThis4fun on Twitter, and befriend her on Facebook (

Tuesday, June 05, 2012

Rethinking my latest title - Do you have an idea?

So I have a book I wrote eons ago. It's the first book in a two book set. Originally it was called Montana Sugar. kind of a cute play on words. in the story Allison received a horse as a gift from our hero. but then he insults her by telling her the horse reminds him of our heroine. Sweet tempered and easy to ride. Yeah, not a good moment for him. The second book was previously published but I never published the first one. So I renamed the second book, once called Marion's Train, to "To Wed a Wanton Woman" so to tie in the first book in the series, I decided to call it To Wed a Virgin Whore because the book does start out with Allison working in a brothel. Now I'm not sure I like the title. So options are
Montana Sugar
To Wed a Virgin Whore
Montana Man
Marrying a Montana Man

the story takes place in Montana. Western Historical and not erotic. it's barely spicy rated. a couple of good sex scenes at the end. anyone have an ideas? If i use your idea, I'll give you credit in the book. :) and I'll throw in some goodies I have here at the house.


Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Believe RSL! I love this song

Branden Steinecker rocks. Thank you for giving us a song to sing for the Pride!

Sunday, May 27, 2012

Sexy Sunday Soccer

Our sexy Sunday footballer is Cristiano Ronaldo dos Santos Aveiro. Not only is he one of the hottest players to hit the pitch, he's also one of the highest paid. That makes him talented, sexy and able to afford a good time. He can't get any hotter.

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Download the KyAnn Waters App!

Here is the QR code for the App on I phone. or you can visit

Want to get the App for your Android?
find it here

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Sinful Sirens Blog Stop

Welcome to the Sinful Sirens blog hop.

It's a beautiful spring morning in Utah. And I'm so glad you decided to stop by and spend a moment with me. I'd like to tell you about my new book An Improper Wife with my Sinful Siren Caroline

A proper young lady should never attend a Masque...Aphrodite is no lady.

Betrothal to the callous Lord Blackhall painted a future devoid of love. Upon his death, Lady Caroline Wilmont is promised to the younger brother. Caroline refuses to allow her first taste of desire to be at the hands of a man who would rather have any woman but her. This, her last night of freedom, is to be a memory of lust that she can take with her throughout her loveless marriage. As Aphrodite, Caroline attends a masque determined to find a man to initiate her into the intimacies of erotic love.

Taran Robertson, Viscount of Blackhall, makes no secret that he despises his obligation to marry the Sassenach heiress chosen for him by his father. As a last foray before his wedding, he attends a masque. However, the spirited vixen he meets and seduces has secrets...secrets that just may reveal he’s to have an improper wife.

Excerpt From: An Improper Wife

Newcastle, England, December 1798

Despite the crush of people that pressed into the intimate corner of the crowded ballroom, the din faded into the background when Lady Caroline Wilmont allowed the hooded blue domino to draw his cape close around them. She leant against the stone pillar and he rested a muscular arm above her head.

His costume wasn’t original-few at such masques were—but the piercing blue eyes staring back at her from behind the mask offered the hope she could forget the prison that awaited her tomorrow.

Guilt niggled. If her presence at the soiree was discovered...she commanded her nerves into submission. Responsibility be damned. She would leave before the assigned hour of two a.m. when the masks were to be removed. No one would know the future Viscountess of Blackhall had attended a masque. Tonight, she was simply one of the many masked women bent on seduction-and being seduced.

Caroline ducked her head, allowing the locks of her long blonde wig to fall to the sides of her face. A crescendo of violins rose from the orchestra. The beat of her heart matched the trilling vibrato. She turned her face just enough to be able to study her admirer through her lashes. His gaze boldly met hers, then dropped to the draped bodice of her Aphrodite costume. Warmth spread through her limbs and brought a flush to her cheeks.

The rich purple of the long sash around her neck contrasted with the stark white of the plunging décolletage designed to accentuate full breasts, bared to a hint of nipple pink. Her pulse skipped a beat. If she leant forward a hair’s breadth...

The crowd pressed closer, up the two steps that separated them from the dance floor. The masked gentleman’s leg brushed her thigh, revealed by the slit in the costume’s long skirt. She could scarcely believe her luck. A second move, and one so bold this early in the evening. The hour was just before midnight and the more prominent guests had yet to appear. If she had captured his imagination to the extent he would forsake other possibilities, this last night of freedom might cost less than the allotted two hours.

"Your beauty makes me forget my manners," the domino murmured.

She gave a low laugh. "I daresay your manners are impeccable-outside of this room."

His gaze locked onto her mouth. "Do you prefer impeccable manners?"

She drew her bottom lip between her teeth. His eyes darkened, and her heart skittered as he leant into her. Caroline slid around the pillar towards the wall, intending to draw him into a more intimate semblance of privacy. Her hip collided with rounded buttocks. She twisted to the right. A masked joker grinned at her over the head of the lady she had bumped into. He reached out with the hand that was wrapped around the woman’s waist and nipped at the skin just below Caroline’s breast.

She turned back around and got a mouthful of her domino’s hard chest. She snapped her head up, and blue eyes stared down at her in a blaze of desire. She froze as his mouth descended. Soft as velvet, his lips slid languidly over hers. He flicked his tongue against her lips and she breathed in the heavy aroma of cigars, and recognised the pungent taste of brandy. Her uncle smelt of brandy and cigars.

Uncle? She tensed, eyes locked on the domino’s shadowed features. His seductive kiss played on her lips. An unpleasant tremor fluttered in her stomach. Damn her uncle. She closed her eyes tight and focused on the warmth of the domino’s lips. A low groan rumbled from him. Strong, solid arms banded around her and pulled her closer. Caroline concentrated on the feel of her breasts flattened against the hard muscles of his chest. Why didn’t her heart pound, her breath catch, her body yearn for his touch?

Fear surfaced. No. She refused to believe what her betrothed, John, had said only two months before his death. Despite the fact he had come from yet another night of drinking, gaming, and carousing, the accusation that she was a passionless husk had cut deep. The cloying scent of perfume and tobacco that clung to him had reminded her that he felt no regret about going from one woman’s bed to another. But doubt lingered.

She forced back the memory. It wasn’t lack of desire that kept her from enjoying the domino, but the dread of discovery. Once they were alone, she would discover the ecstasy of his lust. Her heart beat faster with the memory of overhearing John speak of how a woman had driven him mad by sucking and licking his cock. She planned to drive this man wild and discover the part of her that ached for a man’s touch.

The domino deepened the kiss and Caroline envisioned him braced over her, hands on her bared breasts, his hard length rubbing against her pussy. Darker features and black hair unexpectedly replaced the fair-haired domino in her mind. A flicker of pleasure tightened her nipples and the desire streaked to the heated petals of her pussy.

Caroline clutched the domino’s shirt. His grip tightened as his tongue curled around hers, tasting, stroking. She slipped her hands between their bodies and pressed against his sternum. The firm, contoured muscles of his chest quivered beneath her fingertips. She liked this, would gladly take him, and yet, she had expected something more.

He drew back and trailed fingers over the thin material of her costume, grazing the edge of her breast. From the corner of her eye, Caroline caught sight of lush, blonde hair piled atop the head of a woman wearing a Marie Antoinette costume. She froze. Only one woman between Newcastle and London had such luscious hair that she needed no wig to play Marie Antoinette. Lady Margaret.

What was Margaret doing here? Earlier that afternoon, when her mama had asked her if she planned to attend the ball, she had claimed to have a headache. She’d told Caroline privately that she found the ton even more tiresome in Newcastle than she did in London. Caroline would never have dared attend the masque in London, where she was sure to be recognised. But her uncle had insisted at nearly the last minute that they oblige her future father-in-law and hold the wedding in the chapel on his estate. So here in Newcastle, she had little fear of getting caught at the party. Her heart sank. Now Margaret had destroyed her last chance for seduction. There was nothing left but to flee.

The blue domino leant forward and whispered in her ear, "Aphrodite."

His breath, warm and eager, brushed the tiny hairs on her skin. A shiver raced along her spine and made her scalp tingle. Yes. This she craved. Damn. Too late, all too late.

The domino withdrew enough to be able to look upon her face. "Perhaps we should find somewhere more private?"

If he had suggested that but five minutes ago! She would throttle Margaret. Caroline lifted a corner of her mouth in a half-smile. "Pray, sir, fetch me a punch. This room is a veritable sweatbox." She ran fingers over the swell of her breasts, wiping a trail in the sheen of perspiration beaded across her skin.

His gaze followed the action, eyes darkening before he returned his gaze to her face and gave a slight bow. "At your service."

Leave a comment and tell me anything, a sinful secret, a sinfully delicious dessert, or any other sinful thing that comes to mind. A random winner from the comments can choose any title from my backlist.

Here is where you can go next!

Saturday, May 12, 2012

Bent for His Will - excerpt

Excerpt - Bent For His Will
Copyright - KyAnn Waters

To Purchase on Amazon -

“I can’t believe it. My best friend thinks I want to fuck his girlfriend. This is a conversation I never thought I’d have with you. So what was it that bothered you more? My hands on her ass or her hands on mine?”

Logan was quiet. His ribs ached from the pounding of his heart. “I don’t know.”

“Think hard.”

Logan took a step closer.

Will retreated a step.

“Both.” After tonight Logan had to get this fucking weight off his chest. The pressure was suffocating. “I don’t want other men holding—groping—Renna.” She was his girlfriend and he couldn’t stand the thought of her with another man, not even his gay best friend.

“I never groped.” Will backed against the counter. Perspiration beaded at his temple. “And I’m not other men.”

“I know.” Logan drew in a ragged gasp. Renna wasn’t the only problem. His cock ached and his head swam with insecurity. Admitting he was possessive of his best friend wasn’t easy. Admitting that the feelings weren’t completely platonic was unsettling. “I don’t want anyone, male or female, touching you either.” Powerless to stop himself, his mouth was moving and the words spilled from his lips.

Will laughed but nothing was funny about the tide of want surging through Logan. His ears burned and his head pounded. Heat raced into his neck and his stomach roiled with uncertainty.

He tentatively settled his hand on Will’s belly. “What if I told you I think about touching you?” Logan stilled his trembling fingers, exerting just enough pressure against Will to show his intent.

Will didn’t move, didn’t flinch a muscle except the one behind the fly of his jeans. He was stoic and silent.
Oh fuck. Logan waited, fearing Will would pull away. When he didn’t, Logan tugged on the hem of Will’s shirt. “I do. But tonight I want to more than think. I need to touch you.”

“You’ve had too much to drink.” Will’s voice quavered.

“No. I haven’t had near enough to drown the image of you…” He released a shaky exhale. “You with me, out of my head.”

“Logan, don’t. I love you too much to let you say or do something you’d regret.” Will pushed Logan’s hands away. The touch sent a jolt of liquid heat scorching through him. He burned and he didn’t want Will stepping back.

Logan wanted Will closer. “How do you know I’d have regrets?”

“Because you aren’t gay.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you love pussy.”

He did, loved the wet heat of Renna’s cunt surrounding his cock. Her soft whimpers and sharp nails. This was different and no less arousing. “You’re right. I’m straight.” He glimpsed Will’s groin. Will’s cock strained against the front of his jeans. Logan swallowed. Blood roared through his ears. Fuck, maybe he wasn’t completely straight, but just a little bent.

He could live with that. Because he couldn’t live without taking the chance, risk his friendship to—to what? Experiment with Will? Touch him? Kiss him? Fuck him? His stomach rolled. Tonight he didn’t know what he wanted. He only knew if left to Will, they never would be anything but friends. Logan wasn’t sure that was enough.

“What are you worried about?” Logan whispered.

“Losing you.”

“Won’t happen.”

“You’re right. Because nothing is going to happen between us. You’ve been drinking. You had a fight with your girlfriend and I’m not going to be the cause of your break-up.”

Guilt wormed its way into Logan’s gut. Though his relationship with Will wasn’t some hook-up, it could still hurt Renna. Logan cared about her. He couldn’t cheat on her because he wouldn’t risk losing her.

But, like breathing, his responses for Will were uncontrolled, and Logan didn’t want to control them. He’d figure out what to do tomorrow. He’d talk to Renna, be honest with her. He’d have to be because he couldn’t lie to her and he couldn’t continue to lie to himself. But, tonight…tonight was about Will. “This isn’t about Renna. Just you and me.”

“Believe me, you’d have regrets. We both would.”

“Would you regret kissing me?” He leaned in and drank in the scent of Will’s cologne. “I know you want to.”

“No,” Will whispered. “Because I’m not going to kiss you.”

Logan’s heart felt as if it jumped into his throat then plummeted to his feet. He put his hand on Will’s waist. Electric current flowed through him, heating him, sending a high frequency vibration through every nerve. A rush of adrenaline weakened his knees, yet had him wanting more. “Then I’ll kiss you.” Oh fuck, he was going to kiss Will. His lips tingled and yet he shivered with fear of what it would mean to kiss him…what would happen if he kissed him…what would happen if he didn’t. That thought was more unsettling than the truth—that he was as attracted to Will as he was to Renna. Something different fluttered in his gut, something no less arousing than what he felt with Renna.

Logan did it. He slanted his lips over Will’s.

Will sucked in a quick breath. Then he stilled.

The kiss was just lips, soft and warm. Logan had never kissed a man, never wanted to until this moment. His head lightened and his cock hardened.

Will groaned, fisting his hands at his side. Logan rested his hands on Will’s hips and sliced the edge of his tongue along Will’s mouth. “Kiss me, Will.”


When Will spoke, Logan slipped inside. Kissing Will was dangerous because he tasted so good. Raw, masculine, and forbidden.

A ravishing growl rolled from Will. He snaked his arms around Logan, grabbed his ass, and ground their cocks together. “Fuck.” Will became the aggressor. His mouth opened, plunging deep, swirling over Logan’s teeth. Tongues tangled and sparred. Hot, wet, intense.

Will shifted their positions and backed Logan against the refrigerator. “We shouldn’t do this,” he hissed into Logan’s mouth. “But fuck, I can’t take anymore.” He cupped Logan’s cock and gently squeezed. “You wanted to know. Now you do.” He stroked Logan through his trousers. “Yes. I want this, want you.” His lips feathered along Logan’s neck. His mouth was hot and thrilling. Sucking, tasting and kissing. Will glided his hands higher, delving between them and tugging on the snap to Logan’s trousers.

Holy shit. Will moved fast. Logan fought to keep up, chasing Will’s mouth. Lips crushed lips. The whir of Logan’s zipper sent a hot torrent of need into his cock. Quivers rippled over his abdominals. His stomach tightened and Will’s knuckles brushed against Logan’s flesh. Fire licked his loins. His balls throbbed and his dick was kicking to get out of his pants.

Logan was breathing hard, immersed in the moment, awaiting Will’s touch. “Ah. Fuck.”

Thursday, April 26, 2012

Recap of RT

I was in and out of the RT convention in Chicago this year. Mostly I was super excited to be nominated for an RT book reviews award. I didn't win but I hooked up with friends and recharged my creative batteries. I signed up to get an author app from Onseekers and picked up several books from my fav authors. One of my highlights was seeing good friends.

Mac and I rockin the EC party
Me and Catherine Bybee at the Booksigning
maybe I'll see you all in Kansas City next year. (I think it's Kansas City :))

Sunday, April 22, 2012

RSL recap

Okay, so if you didn't know, I'm a major soccer fan. Well, my husband and son make me look like a novice watcher. (this as they are a few towns away at a community soccer field...just to watch Sunday Soccer.) Last night was set to be a major battle between Real Salt Lake and San Jose Earthquakes. Too bad the officiating, and Lenhart (of SJ) took the joy out of watching. First red flag from Espindola was totally deserved and RSL should play two thirds of the game a man down. I know refs have to make calls with split second decisions, but when a notorious player continues to get away with dirty tricks, it's frustrating to fans. I wanted to see a true team to team matchup. but instead SJ will have their win called into question from an unfair 2 man advantage and 6 minutes of added time. for those who love hot men, with mad soccer skills, playing hard and aggressive soccer, here is the recap.

An Improper Wife - coming soon

it's a beautiful Sunday afternoon. I'm sitting at my desk (taking a break to write this post) doing edits on An Improper Wife. I'm so excited. this is my first dabble into English/Scottish historical erotic romance. I have to give props to my writing partner Tarah Scott. Without her this book would, well it would have been contemporary romance lol. She is the brilliant writer who made the historical aspects of the story so engaging.

Here is a sneak peek. The book is coming to Total E Bound on May 8th!!

(This is not the final edited version of the story.)

Taran’s body tensed when her gaze turned to steel.

”I am to wed,” she said.

“To wed—you mean—” He stared. “What in God’s name are you doing at this masque?” But he knew the answer. Innocence and sin. Heaven and sweet hell. When she’d first touched his cock with those delicate, inexperienced fingers, he’d nearly exploded.

“Christ,” he muttered.

She had purposely misled him. He should turn her over his knee and paddle her backside. Or her soon-to-be-husband should.

He was a fool. At cards he beat the most skilled player, few dared face him in a dawn appointment, yet this wisp of a woman brought him to his knees when she knelt and took him into her mouth.

Moonlight seeped through the crack in the window drape and fell across the purple sash that now lay unevenly beneath her breasts. As if reading his mind, she slid the drapery closed.

Taran lifted his eyes to her face, bathed in the soft light of the interior lamp. “Why attend the masque?” he demanded.

Her gaze dropped.

The carriage bumped and rolled along the lane for a long moment before he prompted, “My lady?”

Her eyes rose to meet his. “You know as well as I, that a woman has only that which is given her.”

Taran thought of the woman who would be his wife tomorrow. Condemned to life with a man she had met once as a girl, her betrothed’s brother, a man she didn’t know, but must take into her bed on the day they wed.

I decided—” Aphrodite paused. “I decided to take something for myself.”

Taran released the breath he held. This he understood. “Many hours remain before morning. There are ways we may pleasure one another and satisfy your husband in the bargain.”

Her expression turned wary.

“Something for yourself?” He extended a hand.

A moment passed, and a vise-like pressure squeezed his chest as an unexpected urge arose to protect her—to claim her for his own. He had no business opening his heart to her. Despite the logic, a fissure in his armour-plated shell cracked. She placed her hand in his and he breathed again.

She moved to his side of the carriage and Taran pulled her close. He kissed her, trailed a hand over her ribs, then cupped a breast, pinching the pebbled nipple until her breath caught and she trembled in his arms.
In his imagination, they lay in a feather bed next to a warm fire while he filled her with his cock and tasted her pleasure in hot, wet kisses. Tonight they had a rented carriage and stolen touches.

He brushed her ear with his lips. “Remove your mask.”

She pushed him back so that she could look into his face. “We have left the masque, but the rules prevail.”

“Even in the cover of darkness?” He leaned across the seat and blew out the lamp. The compartment plunged into pitch black. He sat back beside her. “My hands shall be my eyes.” He removed his mask, set it on the opposite cushion, then reached for hers.

“My lord, no.” The fear in her voice reminded him of her innocence and he silently swore constraint.

“I promise, we shall don our disguises before first light.”

Friday, April 20, 2012

App coming soon

I'm going to be an App. I've started the process of getting an Author App for Iphone and Android. Look for special perks for downloading the free app. Free reads, giveaways, and the latest on my newest releases!

Totally groovy for this techy challenged girl :)

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Highlights from RSL vs MTL

So I'm in the throes of happy soccer season. Part of the Pride. Go RSL

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Oh my holy hello. so I've been playing co-ed soccer for several weeks now. last night I was in exceptional form, not as a soccer player, but as a target on the field. I have a bruise on my elbow, my arm, my leg, and in the last 15 seconds, oh yeah, took a ball to the head. (I ducked, but not low enough) and gave myself a concussion. maybe a sport that doesn't have kicked balls hurling at me at a million miles per hour would be a better sport for me. I told my team I did more plays on accident by being in the way than actual soccer plays.

I'm feeling fine this morning, but yowza, I felt like a cry baby getting helped off the field. on the positive note, RSL rocked last night in their home opener. part of the Pride. Fan for life!

Have a happy Sunday everyone. I'm writing today and will hopefully have the new story finished. I'm on the last chapter. woo hoo.


Thursday, March 15, 2012

We have our new cover for An Improper Wife!

What do you think? Scottish highlander meets feisty English woman. Only she isn't one for behaving according to society's rules. Sexy, with humor and intrigue. I can't wait for the story to come out in May!

Saturday, March 10, 2012

To Purchase

He loves a woman. But he also loves his best maybe he’s not quite straight.

Sawin and Will Pennington have been friends for years. They attend the
same university and live together in a great loft apartment. Their
friendship can withstand anything...except Renna Polo.

Logan has
never questioned his sexuality until he sees Renna, his girlfriend in
Will’s arms. Will is gay. But what bothers Logan more, Will's hands on
Renna...or Renna's hands on Will?

Will has a dirty little
secret...he's in love with his best friend. Yet, Logan isn't gay and
Will isn't willing to risk their friendship to discover if Logan isn't
quite straight, but may be a little bent—Bent For His Will.

is in love with Logan and is intrigued by Will. She accepts what Logan
and Will can't...they belong together. But if Logan and Will take a
chance on more, where does that leave her? Right where she wants to
be...with Logan and the man he loves.

Reader Advisory: This story contains hot man on woman sex, hotter man on man sex, and burn-up-the-pages man on man on woman sex.

Bent For His Will

By reading any further, you are stating that you are 18 years of age, or over.

Copyright © KyAnne Waters, 2012

All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Total-E-Bound Publishing.

Excerpt From: Bent For His Will

Sun-streaked blonde hair fell to her waist. Dirty blonde, just
like the girl. Renna Polo was as kinky as they came. Speaking of coming…
“Tell me again why we can’t go to your place.”

Pushing Renna back against the corridor wall, Logan sliced his
leg between her toned thighs. Damn, he stood six-two and she was nearly
as tall as he was. Easily five-ten. Long limbs, tight body and a wicked
sense of humour.

He skimmed his lips along her jaw and down her neck. Her silken
hair draped over his hands as he stroked the ladder of her spine, to the
dip of her lower back, then cupped her luscious ass. Two perfectly
round cheeks filled his palms.

“My roommate’s parents are in town. She said it’s bad enough when
I keep her up all night. She doesn’t think her parents would appreciate
our interests.” A moan rolled from her throat as she rocked against
him. Renna more than moaned, she screamed through her orgasms. How was
he going to fuck her at his place? He also had a roommate.

He pulled back and smiled. Hard nipples prodded against the
clingy tank top hugging her chest. Although she didn’t wear lipstick,
Renna wore a shitload of makeup on her eyes. Heavy kohl liner and long,
sexy lashes rimmed stormy bedroom irises a deep shade of blue. Those
same eyes would widen and sparkle when he plunged into her slippery
sheath until she shattered. “Can you be quiet?” Heat from her pussy
burned through the fabric of his trousers. Fuck, his dick was hard and

“No. So maybe you had better fuck me out here.” She swivelled her
hips and he groaned. “Who lives across the hall?” The upper floor of
the old textile plant had been split into four loft apartments. The rent
and proximity to USC more than compensated for the view out of the
large industrial windows.

“This is LA. I don’t know my neighbours. They don’t bother me and
I don’t bother them, which is why we should go in, but only if you
promise to be quiet.”

“I can try. You might have to punish me. Paddle my ass before you fuck me.”

“How can I resist?” Why would he? She was hot, horny and totally
into him. Logan’s pulse spiked and he smiled. He could admit he wanted
more from her. He knew he hadn’t had enough.

“You can’t.” She smirked. “So maybe you shouldn’t be so good.”
She slid her hands into his suit coat, gripped his hips and tugged him
closer. “Let’s see if you can be quiet while I fuck you in the ass like
you did me the other night.” She squeezed his butt.

Logan claimed her lips and hungrily ate at her mouth. His tongue
lashed at hers, sucking, tasting, emulating the way he was going to
thrust his cock into her as soon as he had her in his room, in his bed
with her legs wrapped tight around his waist. “Shh. Will is asleep.” Not
to mention Logan and his roommate Will Pennington had an unwritten rule
not to bring dates to their loft. One large open room wasn’t conducive
for intimate encounters with moaning and heavy breathing.

“Will loves me,” she said.

He snorted as he slipped the key into the door handle and popped
the lock. “He might love you, but I promise, he won’t love waking up and
seeing my ass in the air while I fuck you unconscious.” At least, Will
had never hinted he’d like to see Logan’s ass.

“I’ve never lost consciousness.” She caressed his cock bulging
against the zipper of his slacks. “But I think you should try. I’ll
climb on top of you, ride that monster in your pants then it’ll be my
ass in the air.”

Logan opened the door then softly closed it. “Believe me, your
ass isn’t going to do anything for Will.” He slipped off his suit coat
and draped it over the back of a recliner. A dim light above the stove
cast a pale glow into the main area of the loft. Shadows darkened the
perimeter, but Logan could see Will asleep in his bed.

“That isn’t a very nice thing to say. What’s wrong with my ass?”

Logan pulled her into his arms and backed her against the door.
“You have an amazing ass. You’re just not his type. You’re my type.” He
kissed her pouty lips.

“As in easy and horny? Or blonde with tits?” Her low, throaty
laugh sent an arrow of quivering heat along his spine. “Or is it my
charming personality?”

“Maybe it’s just that you love to fuck as much as I do,” he whispered as he tugged open the snap of her jeans.

“Are you going to ravish me here, or do I get the pleasure of your bed?”

“Oh, you’ll get pleasured.” He tucked his thumbs into the
waistband of her jeans, touching silken skin. Inching her jeans over her
hips, he dropped to his haunches to tug the denim down to her ankles.
He lifted her left foot, flicked the strap of her sandal off her heel
and tossed the shoe to the side. He then lifted her right foot. Removing
the sandal and jeans, he leaned into the apex of her thighs and
breathed against the scrap of silk covering her smooth, hairless slit.
Cupping the back of his head, she swivelled her hips, rolling her pussy
into his mouth.

A hungry growl rumbled from his throat. He gripped her ass and
buried his mouth in her honeyed heat. Thrusting his tongue against the
silk, he wet the fabric until the material moulded to her clit. Her head
fell back and thumped against the door.

He chuckled and backed away. Hooking a finger in the drenched
material sliding into her folds, he grazed her pussy lips with his
knuckles. She whimpered, but he didn’t linger in her slit. He slithered
the thong down her legs, running his fingertips over her smooth flesh.
Warmth simmered in his balls. He rested his forehead on the sexy plane
of her pelvis and drank in her seductive essence. A touch of perfume, a
hint of musk and the sweet bloom of her arousal. He shifted his lips and
kissed her belly.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he whispered.

“Good.” She stepped out of the wispy panties, then widened her
stance. “It’s okay.” She weaved her fingers through his hair. “I like
being a little crazy. You will, too.”

Logan grasped her leg, lifted it to his shoulder and delved into
her cunt. Slicing his tongue through her soaked folds, he lapped at her
cream. “Fucking hot.” She rose onto her tiptoes and rocked her hips.
God, she was like the ocean. Wet, wild and just a hint of salty
decadence. He screwed his tongue into her hole.

“More,” she whispered.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Striker is out with Carina Press!

Stop by the Carina Press blog today for a chance to win a copy.

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Sports writer Max Myers just discovered he lives next door to the hottest soccer player to hit the field. If he scores a coveted interview with the reclusive striker for the Denver Blaze, he could take himself from sports blogger to mainstream sports authority.

Riley Grayson has no interest in interviews or in outing his private life to the public. He wants to be known for the scoring he does on the field and not in the sack. But Max is a temptation he can't resist. Taking a chance, Riley and Max discover they have more in common than passion for soccer and hot sex between the sheets.

Just as they begin to trust each other outside the bedroom, Max is put in a no-win situation: write an article about Riley exposing accusations of drug use, or risk destroying his own credibility. If he does, he'll lose Riley. If he doesn't, he'll lose everything he's worked hard to achieve.