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:

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.”

“Grizel?”

“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 http://www.fearlessfastpacedfiction.com. Find her reading picks @ReadThis4fun on Twitter, and befriend her on Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/SueSwift).


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.

KyAnn


Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Download the KyAnn Waters App!

Here is the QR code for the App on I phone. or you can visit
http://appshopper.com/books/kyann-waters-2



Want to get the App for your Android?
find it here
http://www.androidzoom.com/android_applications/books_and_reference/kyann-waters_cgxzc.html

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 - http://www.amazon.com/Bent-For-His-Will-ebook/dp/B007WGFPA0/ref=sr_1_11?ie=UTF8&qid=1336880604&sr=8-11


“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.”

“No.”

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 :)
Ky

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 friend...so maybe he’s not quite straight.

Logan
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.

Renna
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
ready.

“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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Description

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.

Monday, July 25, 2011


Double Bang!
I neglected to tell you about the new story I have with Tarah Scott. Double Banghttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif released with the Wild Rose Press.

http://www.wilderroses.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=823

Sara Martin has a problem. And it’s not the attraction she has for her co-worker Devon Curran…or the lust she feels for her sexy neighbor, Rigg. Yes, those are problems. But she has bigger issues. There’s been a security breach in the impenetrable computer system at work. Suddenly Devon doesn’t look happy. And that is a gun in his pocket!

Devon is working undercover…and Sara is about to blow his case. He’d rather she blow him. She’s as smart as she is beautiful. But he’s lied to protect her. What will she do when she discovers he works with a partner? Tonight, they are going to keep her close…very close…in their protective custody.




This title contains: explicit language, anal sex, and ménage a trios (m/f/m).



Adult Excerpt (contains graphic language):

Fear lanced through her. Were they going to leave her? She searched Devon’s face. “Do you have to go, too? I mean, you’re partners, right? Do you do everything together?”

Devon stared hard at Rigg, and the tension in the room thickened. “We haven’t done everything together.”

It didn’t take a folder of evidence to know they were talking about more than the investigation. The fear and anger at her forced confinement morphed into a simmering heat deep in her core.

Devon’s cell rang, shattering the moment. “Excuse me.” Devon stood and glanced at the display screen. “It’s our contact.” He strode across the room, slid open the sliding glass door leading to the balcony, and stepped outside. His quietly whispered words cut off when the door slid shut.

Rigg rested a hand on her thigh. “We never meant to hurt you.”

She glanced at his hand, then lifted half-lowered lashes and stared into the dark smoldering depths of Rigg’s obsidian eyes. “Will you hurt me now?”

“No, but I won’t pretend not to want you.” His fingertips scorched a trail higher.

Sara abruptly stood and crossed to the sliding glass door “What about Devon?” The man on her mind leaned against the railing, speaking into his cell phone. He smiled when he saw her then his gaze shifted over her shoulder and the easy smile hardened.

The lights dimmed, only a small lamp at the table illuminated near where she stood. A tingle shivered along her spine. Warm breath caressed the nape of her neck. Rigg pressed in close…and from the other side of glass and a sheer curtain, Devon watched.

“I don’t want the same thing as Devon.”

“And what do you think he wants?” Her heart pounded as Rigg’s palms rested on her hips and his chest pressed against her back.

“You.”

She clung to the simple word. How much of her? Tonight? “What about tomorrow when the investigation is over? What will you want?”

“I’m partnered up with Devon for this assignment, but tomorrow I could be in a meth ring or bringing down a drug cartel. You wouldn’t want to know me then. I’m not stable like Devon.” His lips brushed her shoulder and blood whooshed through her ears. “Devon’s looking for more.” Rigg nestled his hard cock against her ass. “But I still want to fuck you.”

Monday, April 18, 2011

The Wild Rose Press turns 5!

Join me at
www.groups.yahoo.com/group/thewilderroses
for a week of celebration.
April 27 - May 1 2011

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Miranda's Rights
KyAnn Waters
2.50
BDSM

Miranda's Rights

To Purchase


She needs pain…she needs punishment…she needs him.

Jase Ralston gets hot under his very blue collar just thinking about his friend and neighbor, Miranda Carlucci. Yet she can’t possibly be interested—not when she could have champagne, caviar and her pick of Vegas high rollers.

The bruises change everything. She denies she’s in an abusive relationship, but his cop instincts won’t let him rest until he finds out the truth. When he follows her to a BDSM club and finds her writhing under a flogger’s stinging kiss, his Dom instincts kick in.

Jase takes command of the scene—and Miranda—at Club Creed. This is what she’s always wanted. Pleasure, pain…and rough-around-the-edges Jase. Yet after his domination transports her to a level of subspace she’s never known, he leaves her—unwilling to continue the scene.

Confusion gives way to hurt…then anger. He’s claimed her and Miranda wants more. Even if it means confronting Jase and making demands of her own.


Product Warnings
This submissive woman has the right to be silent. Anything she says could result in being tied up, flogged, and spanked. Law enforcement has never been hotter.

Copyright © 2011 KyAnn Waters
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

Jase acknowledged he wasn’t in Miranda’s league—not for more than friendship. He was blue-collar and hardworking. Miranda deserved diamonds and caviar. They might live in the same apartment complex, spend time together watching television and even grab dinner together several times a week, but those weren’t dates. Miranda dated up. Her work behind the scenes in the casino industry exposed her to the wealthy, powerful men of Vegas. Upscale scourge. Jase had a gut feeling that her latest guy wasn’t treating her well.

Jase was a Dom. He liked control, but he’d never abuse a woman. Lately he wasn’t sure if someone was hurting her, demeaning her—forcing her to do something she didn’t want to do. That was the problem. She wouldn’t open up to him about her late nights. His thoughts raced in a thousand different directions. Only one conclusion made sense. She didn’t want Jase to know.

Across the hall, a key worked into a lock. Jase stomped across the floor and swung the door open.

“Jase!” Miranda sucked in a sharp inhale, slapped a hand over her heart and spun in his direction. “You scared me.”

Perhaps he should have put on a shirt. Her gaze traveled his torso, igniting small fires over his flesh. She lingered on the open snap of his jeans riding low on his hips and trekked lower to his bare feet.

“And put on some clothes. If Ms. Perry in 3D sees you, you’ll have a stalker on your hands. She drools at anything with a nice body, especially a nice tight butt and—” Her gaze locked on his groin. “Well, and the right anatomy. If she gets her inch-long dragon-lady nails into your back, you’ll need surgery to remove her.”

“It’s close to four a.m. No one else is awake.”

She snorted. “This is Vegas. No one sleeps.”

“Where have you been?” In the span of a heartbeat, he glanced over her from her tousled hair to her askew clothing. The buttons on her blouse weren’t aligned and her stockings were torn. “What the hell happened?” Her sexy lips, normally pouty and pink, were slightly swollen. Dark circles shadowed her red-rimmed eyes.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” she whispered. “I’m fine now, Detective. It’s late. You should be in bed.” Her lips curled into a smile.

“You aren’t fine.” His hands balled into fists. This craziness had gone on long enough. He couldn’t stand by and watch her self-destruct. He took a step back. “Get in here.”

Her head cocked to the side. “Jase, I’m tired.” She turned back toward her door and wiggled the key until it turned and the lock popped. “I had a rough night, but really. I’m fine.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

She glanced at him and her tired eyes widened.

“We need to talk.”

“I’m sure whatever scolding you’re going to give me can wait until morning.”

“Now.”

“Okay.” Her hand paused on the knob without turning the handle. Her head bowed and her shoulders visibly trembled. She was petite, not more than five-foot-five. Jase had eight inches on her and outweighed her by eighty pounds. He could force her into his apartment. But he wouldn’t have to. The Dom in him stirred at her willingness to heed his words. Whether she’d ever acknowledge it, Miranda had submissive tendencies. He tamped down the small thrill and focused on the anger coiling in his gut instead.

“But I’m tired and don’t want to talk.” Miranda crossed the hall and entered his living room. “I just want to crawl into bed and sleep.” She clasped her hands in front of her, a small purse clutched in her fingers. The door closed with a thud and she jumped.

“What is going on with you?”

“Nothing. I went out.” She stood in his living room, glancing at his couch, the window, anything but his face. Normally her bubbly personality had him laughing. At the moment, she seemed almost afraid. He had an infuriating idea of why. The thought of someone hurting her… He growled and jammed his hands into his pockets. He had the mounting need to slam his fist into the wall, scour the city for the piece of shit and show him a little payback. Any bastard who could hurt a woman deserved his ass beat.

Jase understood BDSM. Power and dominance went hand in hand with trust and devotion. He understood the high from pain play. He’d been in the scene long enough to know that the glimmer in Miranda’s blue eyes wasn’t from being taken to the brink and pushed over the edge. She’d been broken, and that wasn’t willing submission. “What has he done to you?”

Her head snapped up and her eyes narrowed. “Who?”

“Who? Christ, who do you think?” He stormed across the room and grasped her wrist.

She winced and tried to pull away. “Don’t.”

“Who is doing this to you?” He jerked back her sleeves. Angry red welts banded her delicate wrists. Deep purple and maroon bruises crisscrossed her porcelain flesh. Higher on her arm, four equally spaced marks bore the impression of someone squeezing her, restraining her. “Miranda, I see it all the time. I recognize an abused woman.”

“I’m not being abused!” She jerked her arm, yanking her wrist from his hands.

“That’s more than rough sex.”

“I’m not having sex either,” she snapped.

“And I’m not stupid. Are you going to tell me you did that—” he pointed to her wrists, “—to yourself?”

“Are you crazy?”

“No, I’m ready to go ballistic.” He’d kill the bastard who put his hands on her. “I can help you.” He lowered his voice. “Please, let me take care of this, let me take care of you.”


Friday, March 25, 2011

Going Down Hard
KyAnn Waters
m/m/m Cowboy Menage
2.00

To purchase

Going Down Hard

Love sucks. Relationships suck. But Hale Reston loved Jesse Whitfield anyway—until he left without saying goodbye and without an explanation. Hale was going down…going down hard. Braden Owens picked him up and showed him loving someone doesn’t have to hurt. Just as Hale has convinced himself what he has with Braden is just sex, Jesse returns and Hale must accept that his emotions run deep, but not just for Braden. He’s still in love with Jesse, too.


This title contains: explicit language and ménage a trios (m/m/m).

Rosette (35 pages)


Excerpt:

Hale couldn’t turn away from the intensity in Jesse’s brown eyes. Those lashes and the dimples in his clean-shaven face. Sharp angles carved his square jaw. In the months he’d been gone, he’d gotten his hair cut. Now short on the sides and longer on the top, Jesse had lost the rancher edge and taken on a city sophistication. Damn, but it looked good on him.

Jesse leaned in closer. “I’m not walking away from us.”

The subtle scent of Jesse’s cologne reminded Hale of the intimate moments he’d spent kissing Jesse, of touching him and rubbing against him until they’d both come in their jeans. The bittersweet memories were more than Hale wanted to remember. “You already did.”

The barn door swung open, flooding the area with bright sunlight. Cowboy hat, worn jeans hugging slim hips, long legs and cowboy boots. Hale swallowed hard. Braden always had the same affect on him. As beautiful as Jesse was, Braden was rough and rugged. Jesse carried the scent of fine cologne…Braden smelled like sweat and man. He was hard, lean and tough as nails. And he wanted Hale.

“Hey, stranger,” he said to Jesse as he came into the barn, his determined gait eating up the distance between them. Braden’s friendly smile stretched across his tanned face, and his blue eyes sent heat into Hale’s groin. These were the two men he wanted, but only one could he have. Braden. And he needed him.

“You can get out now,” he said to Jesse.

Braden slapped Jesse on the shoulder. “You look good.”

“Fuck you,” Jesse spat and stormed out of the barn.

****

Hale’s gut clenched as the barn door slapped the wall hard, bounced back, then swung on its hinges.

Braden leaned against the beam and cocked an eyebrow. “So much for a quiet Sunday morning. Do I need to ask how it feels to have him back home?”

Hale didn’t want to feel anything at all, but he did. Seeing Jesse again hurt like hell. He knew it would because to see him was to want him. Nothing had changed. Except that this time, Hale had turned Jesse away. “I couldn’t care less.”

“You’re full of shit.” Braden tossed off his hat and closed in tight, pushing Hale against the stall wall.

Hale couldn’t speak. Desire coiled in his gut and threatened to snap. Need of Braden and want of Jesse. Braden’s whiskered jaw rasped against his cheek as Braden kissed his neck with his hot, wet mouth.

“I know you too well.” Braden nipped at Hale’s mouth. Fine lines creased the corner of his blue eyes. Braden was a few years older than Hale, but thirty looked good on him. Bronzed by the wind and sun. Hard from work. And he was experienced—skilled in everything from ranching to sex. “You do care.”

He slammed his lips onto Hale’s. Firm and demanding. Together their passion was explosive, consuming, and mutual. But more than that, Braden did know Hale. When Hale was going down—going down hard—Braden was there. He watched Hale crash…then picked him up.



Friday, February 25, 2011

Up Close and Personal
Available Now!


Up Close & Personal

Up Close and Personal
The Wilder Roses
Gay erotic contemporary
To Purchase
2.00

No way is Nate Sheppard attending the office celebration to kiss his new boss's ass. He's already been there and done that. And it literally screwed him out of a promotion. Now he's done with interoffice affairs. Especially when the only man he truly wants is off limits.

Graham Eddins knows Nate isn't opposed to office romances, but Nate's been screwing the wrong men. Until now Graham hasn't been willing to risk their friendship. However, if he wants more, he's going to have to offer Nate a new position...one that's up close and personal.

This title contains: explicit language, anal sex and m/m.


Excerpt:

Graham leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "I never pegged you for a player." His gaze sizzled over Nate, over his chest, along his stomach and paused on the fly of Nate's trousers.

"I'm not a player."

"Then a slut."

"I can live with slut. I like sex." He'd like to have sex with someone he cared about, but he wasn't sure he was ready to care about anyone...except Graham. "But, unlike Joe, I never lied." Nate spun away. His cock strained against the fabric, the bulge becoming more defined. "I never pretended to want more from him. I don't do serious." Because of the barely banked heat he felt for Graham. Their friendship fed his need for everything but sex.

"Bullshit." Graham grabbed his arm and turned him back around. They stood together, nearly touching. Nate could see Graham's pulse pounding in the strong column of his neck, the flush of color in his cheeks, and feel the warmth of Graham's breath against his face. His lips looked soft, soft enough to kiss. Graham had mesmerizing eyes to drown in, to forget about everything but seeing those smoky irises darken with passion. "You're the most serious man I know."

"Graham," he whispered, afraid to say more, afraid to reveal too much about the rioting sensations firing through him. Kiss him. Touch him. Tell him how you feel.

"You're driven by your job, but not enough to fuck for a promotion." Graham rested his hand on Nate's hip.

Breath froze in Nate's lungs, his chest tightened, and his gut clenched. He found enough voice to whisper, "No."

Graham's fingertips hesitantly inched higher, onto Nate's waist. "What will you fuck for?"

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Beautiful Storm - Just released from Ellora's Cave!

0
Beautiful Storm
Erotic Contemporary
Ellora's Cave
To Purchase
$1.49


Adrian Beck lost everything, including his passion for designing beautiful buildings, after 9/11. Self-imposed exile on Long Caye Island gives him the sanctuary he needs to live a simple, uncomplicated life.

Isabelle Clemet, of Clemet Hotels, is ready to rebuild after Katrina. She wants the best to design her new project on the coast in Biloxi, Mississippi. She wants Adrian.

Can an erotic late-night encounter on a secluded beach help a lonely architect rediscover his lost passion?

Excerpt:


"No. My first time to Belize Island. It's beautiful."

"So are you."

She smiled and dipped her head.

"It's late for a swim."

"I'm restless. The moon is full." She glanced into the sky then returned her gaze to his. "I didn't expect to see anyone." She kept her legs tucked beneath her and his shirt covered most of her nudity. "I should've worn a suit."

He grazed a finger over the fabric. "I'm glad you didn't. And I'm the only one who saw you. We're alone." With each beat of his heart, he felt the pull to crush her flush against him and kiss her trembling lips. "This is a private beach."

"Then we're both trespassing." Her whispered words hinted at seduction.

"I don't kiss and tell."

"Good."

He took her word as consent. He cupped her cheek and brushed his lips over hers. A soft whimper slipped from her. With a heated touch, she melted against him. Twining her arms around his neck, she clung to his shoulders. Adrian flicked his tongue against her lips. Her mouth opened and he relished in the cool fresh taste of her. He growled, parting the fabric and touching her. Smooth bronzed skin fluttered beneath his fingertips. This was crazy. Beautiful women didn't materialize from the sea, like an erotic dream come to life and make love on the beach.

He gripped her tighter, trailing his palm to her hip. She was warm, soft and pliant in his arms. Trekking higher, he widened his hands, feeling each of her ribs. Her breath was shallow and her pulse raced in the same frenzied rhythm as his.

Isabelle trembled. Strong hands warmed her chilled flesh and erotic heat scorched her from the inside out. Perhaps it had been crazy to slip into the soothing Caribbean waters for a midnight swim, but she was wound too tight and had to release some of the pent-up energy stressing her out. So much responsibility rested on her shoulders.

Perhaps the moon had drawn her to this distant shore. Or the enchanting tropical waters. Or the magic of this man.

The island dream kissed her with passion. She ached to feel the desire of a man who was interested in her—the woman. Oh, and with each wondrous glide of his tongue, she slipped a little more under his spell. She wanted more than kisses. Cream simmered in her pussy, hot and waiting for this man to fill her. She shouldn't be here. But who would know? His lips were tempting, his taste intoxicating. The moon, the ocean, the man all contributing to the madness in her mind.

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Mercy of the Dragon - New GBLT in the Garden

I have been meaning to tell you about my latest releases in the Wilder Garden. Several months ago, my editor came to me because she knew I had a love of m/m romance. The Wild Rose Press was opening its Scarlet Rose line to gay erotic romance and would I be interested in writing a few stories to help get the genre launched. Well, absolutely. I actually had one complete, but I hadn't decided where to submit it. So the opportunity couldn't have come at a better time for Mercy of the Dragon.

Mercy of the Dragon released on Jan 28 to mixed reviews but a common thread was there. it's hot m/m shape-shifter romance. The one complaint is that the story is too short and they want more. That's a complaint I love. Nothing is more validating than to have someone say they wanted to read more about characters I've created.

Up Close and Personal is releasing and next month you'll meet three cowboys in Going Down Hard.

I love the tumble of two men falling in love so I'm especially proud to see this genre come to the garden.

Thank you to my wonderful editor, Diana, for asking me to bring these three short stories to the Wilder side of the garden.


Mercy of the Dragon
Gay BDSM Fantasy shape-shifter
The Wilder Roses
To Purchase
2.00


Ja'darien, slayer of Dracs, will stop at nothing to banish his deviant desire for the dragons. He won't rest until he rids the world of the beasts. On the edge of a ravine, he waits for his prey.

Kerkira, a winged dragon, hunts the slayer. Yet, when given the chance, he can't kill his enemy. The man is his mate. However, because of Ja'darien's sins against the Dracs, Kerkira vows the slayer's submission will not be pleasant.

The bond of mating is more intense than either is prepared for. Will Kerkira forgive him because Ja'darien is at the mercy of the dragon?


This title contains: explicit language, anal sex, bondage,
BDSM, and m/m.


Excerpt:

Kerkira approached the bedding. The slayer, naked and bound with cord to his pallet, continued to sleep. Kerkira swallowed hard. Ja'darien was beautiful in repose. His perfect form was seemingly at peace. His full lips softened to a half smile. High brows arched over expressive eyes.

On the ridge above the ravine, those emerald eyes had revealed more than fear and hatred. Passion and lust. Even if Kerkira hadn't scented the sweetness of his essence, he'd felt the heat radiating off Ja'darien. Ja'darien's engorged cock had pressed against his tunic. The arousing fluids dampened the protective cloth and sent shards of pleasure unfurling within Kerkira's dragon—awakening the man.

"How do I make you understand?" he whispered to the sleeping slayer. If only Ja'darien had realized he'd destroyed his destiny with his rage against dragons.

Kerkira had stripped him of clothes upon arriving at his lair. His mate was for his pleasure and the need to roam hand, mouth and cock over the muscular perfection was increasing with each passing moment. Instinct to mate, to claim him—to mark him—was overwhelming. But so was the need to discipline the slayer, to punish him with painful pleasure.

As he had tied the intricate knots in the rope, binding Ja'darien to the bed, Kerkira's clawed hands had trembled.

"You will never slaughter another Drac," Kerkira vowed. Ja'darien's destiny was to serve and Kerkira would see to his instruction. "For the pain and death you've rained upon my species, your submission to me will be total and complete." His eyes narrowed as he visualized a submissive Ja'darien accepting Kerkira's power and learning to take pleasure in punishment. Ja'darien had been fighting against his true nature. A dragon's mate was always submissive. "However, it may not always be pleasant."

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Born Into Fire - KyAnn Waters and Tarah Scott
Just released from Loose id!

to purchase
http://www.loose-id.com/Born-into-Fire.aspx


Ryalda, the Element heroes of old, leak from the void and bring with them beauty, desire...and destruction.

Change is hard, but the unexpected metamorphosis into fire goes beyond any change Kenna Lang could ever have imagined. When she discovers her ancestors are actually ancient beings who exist in a void beyond our universe and the dragons of her childhood dreams are real, life as she knows it is over.

Erion, an Air Element, answers the call of Kenna’s emerging fire to discover a woman on the cusp of transformation. He’s drawn to her, the need to mate overwhelming. However, Erion killed once before by having sex in element form, and has sworn not to merge with another Element. But the discovery that a male Fire Element is intent upon enslaving Kenna’s soul forces Erion to get involved. He will save her. But he aches to do more than protect her. He wants to touch her -- to pleasure her, but he can't risk bonding his Element to hers.

Erion is unprepared for the emotions Kenna awakens in him -- or the lengths to which she will go to save him.

Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Sex while in shifted Element form


Excerpt:

A breeze -- that was him -- fluttered the ivory curtains. Moonlight streamed through the open window, outlining the sleeping form beneath the sheet covering the queen-size bed. He hovered. Why had he answered the call of her element? He had no right. Anguish wrenched through him. Long ago, he’d answered the call of another Element, and she’d paid with her life. The memory -- the pain -- didn’t stop the rake of his gaze down the cotton sheet that revealed every lush curve of the sleeping woman’s body. Desire streaked through him. The fabric ruffled in response to his command, then slid downward.

He sucked in a harsh breath. Softly molded shoulders gave way to rounded breasts tipped with quarter-size nipples, then a flat tummy and trim thighs led to long, toned legs. An unexpected vision surfaced of those legs wrapped tight around his waist while he thrust into her. The swirling vortex that was his core leaped into a furious dance.

Go, his mind commanded.

Fluid veins of amber light erupted beneath her skin. He stood frozen, her fire a drag on his wind that lay open the ache buried deep within.

Leave, came a second panicked admonition.

She inhaled.

Realization hit. Too late.

She drew him deep into her lungs. Warmth infused him in a heady rush. He struggled in desperation to escape the current, but each beat of her heart thrummed through him, echoing in his mind in a thunderous rhythm. The flow of blood through her veins washed over him like a thick velvet river.

And he gave in.

As if sensing him, she hesitated, then breathed him out on a shaky exhale. He shuddered, the loss tearing a howl of fury from him.

More. She wanted more. He needed more.

As wind, he lay beyond tangible comprehension, a cool breeze, nothing more. He could take a small piece and not imprint on her. This woman would be born into fire -- without him.

In one decadent breath, he draped himself over her, touched all of her. Her heated skin cooled. No mortal man could experience her as he did. No mortal man could touch her as he could. He chilled the air over her nipples, then watched as they peaked and felt them pucker. Commanding a gentle breeze, he caressed her contours, fitting his shape to hers.

She moaned. Excitement rocketed through him, and the current within him swirled. She shivered beneath him. He hesitated. Even a second too long would leave her with a sense of familiarity. He must leave or risk revealing himself -- or worse, bonding.

Heat pooled between her legs. Every fiber of his being screamed go. Yet, as if anchored by unseen chains, he remained motionless, unable to tear his eyes from the sight of energy that built in her erogenous points.

Only a moment, his heart urged. A mere whisper of her essence to ease the emptiness. Then he would leave.

He focused hot pressure, the wispy kiss of an Air Element, to her neck. As he trailed the pressure to her nipple, he turned the air icy. She bowed off the bed. He filled the space behind her arched back, curving up toward her neck and down across her rounded buttocks. Her breath came in quick pants, frosting in the air -- in him.

Frigid pressure tightened her nipples to erect peaks. He swirled air around the tips. She collapsed, thrashing on the pillow, and covered her breasts as if to ease the aching cold he created. Her hands heated until they glowed. The fire within her.

The glow spread up her arms, radiated out from her torso, and emitted a scorching heat that heightened his frequency to a fevered pitch. Fire. Fiera. His heart constricted. He had no right to name her. He would not be the one to bring her into being. She would seek another. But he would have this memory.

Air spun around her body. Faster, hotter. The friction against her skin hardened him. His core grew heavier. Spread your legs. The unbidden words echoed in his mind, but the unspoken command carried on the current of his breath and caressed her ear. She pulled her legs up and, knees bent, opened wide for him. He glided downward until his breath disturbed the auburn curls covering her mound.

Scent of her arousal penetrated his core. Need to shift into human form and taste her sweet nectar pooled energy into his center. He moved upward, concentrating until he held the gossamer form of a man, and settled vaporous hips between her thighs. In air form, he couldn’t slip his tongue into the sweet recesses of her mouth, couldn’t spread her damp folds, or plunge his rigid cock into the forbidden depths of her. But he could feel the heat.

Open for me, he coaxed.

Fiera moaned and reached between her legs. With a delicate stroke, she traced the seam of her pussy. He vibrated the air over her clit. A soft smile tilted her lips. Satisfaction rippled through him. She wanted more.

In a cyclone of current, he swirled around her. Strands of her flaming red hair danced in the static-filled air. Her peach-hued nipples puckered, her chest rose and fell with each deep breath she took.

More energy. Faster wind. Yes. Her hips rose off the bed, and she plunged a finger inside her channel. When she fit a second finger into her drenched opening and thrust deep, energy shot in a jagged pattern from his core to her channel. She cried out. Her eyelids fluttered, but she didn’t wake.

With her free hand she touched her clit and thrust wildly against an unseen force. Him. Gyrating her hips, bucking and arching, she fucked him, but used her own fingers. His mind whirled with her energy. It was as if she swirled around him.

© KyAnn Waters & Tarah Scott, November 2010
All Rights Reserved

Thursday, November 18, 2010


Erotic content - 18+ Only

The Naughty List
KyAnn Waters
Ellora's Cave
Releasing Dec 8th!!

http://www.jasminejade.com/ps-8874-50-the-naughty-list.aspx


T’was a week before Christmas and Mrs. Claus conspires. Proposition Jack Frost to give Santa his greatest desire…

Santa ceased struggling against his bindings. Blindfolded and mute, he could do little more than grunt and anticipate the inevitable conclusion of this seditious act of perfidy. After Jack had removed Santa’s boots, he wound leather straps around Santa’s ankles. A two-inch thick leather collar buckled around his neck. He could swallow, but the movement put pressure on his Adam’s apple. Even if tape wasn’t stretched across his mouth, he doubted he’d be able to call out for help. A shudder ripped over his flesh. Heaviness weighted on his chest and his head lightened with euphoric intoxication. He was bound, gagged and apparently at the mercy of Jack Frost. That thought both thrilled and terrified.

No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t understand why Abby would conspire against him. Why would she trust the devious Jack Frost?

Just today he’d checked the list, checked it twice! Jack was still naughty and Abby was still nice.

“Hurry the fuck up,” Jack hollered. Santa cringed. The reindeer didn’t respond well to harsh commands. The sleigh bumped and rolled over the frozen rivers and through the woods to Jack’s abode. Santa tried to keep from rolling off the rear seat of the sleigh by bracing his feet.

For as long as Santa had been on the job, Jack had been on the naughty list. He’d done some wily acts in his years, but he’d never fucked with Santa Claus. Never truly broken North Pole laws. Until now.

The sleigh came to a jarring halt. Santa grunted.

“Almost home,” Jack said as he pulled the warm fur blanket from Santa. Jack jumped into the sleigh, helped Santa to sit, then straddled Santa’s lap and tugged off the blindfold. “I don’t live in North Pole city limits. No one is around.” He tightened his thighs to Santa’s flanks. “No one will know what I do to you.” He rocked his pelvis, crushing his groin to Santa’s. “No one will hear you call out for help.”

With each seductive word from Jack, Santa began to understand what was about to happen, what he was unwilling to acknowledge he wanted. To do so would be naughty—and Santa was never naughty.

A shiver of apprehension skated over Santa. Was Jack going to give him a choice?

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you in my workshop, Santa?” He grinned as he carefully worked the corner of the tape loose. “I have toys.” Jack’s gray eyes clouded with lust. “Bats and balls. Paddles and rope.” The tape slowly peeled away from Santa’s tingling lips. Santa didn’t have a long beard, rather sported neatly trimmed whiskers and a tightly groomed mustache. The tape tugged on the hairs as Jack pried it away. “Or would you rather play with blow-up dolls and Silly Putty?”


The Naughty List by KyAnn Waters

www.KyAnnWaters.com

www.facebook.com/KyAnnWaters