Guest Blogger – Elizabeth Finn

Today on the purple crushed velvet couch I have fellow Liquid Silver Books’ author, Elizabeth Finn.

Welcome Elizabeth, and thank you for agreeing to being interrogated.

Lillian: For those who have never had the pleasure of reading one of your books maybe you can tell us a bit about the genres you write?

immortaldistractionElizabeth: Contemporary erotic romance for the most part, though I’m in the middle of releasing a contemporary paranormal erotic romance series at the moment (The Immortals). I love to read pretty much any genre of romance, so don’t be surprised if you see me venture into some other subgenres at some point!

Lillian: How long have you been writing, and how many books a year do you usually produce?

Elizabeth: I’m a perpetual student, so even before I tried my hand at writing fiction I was always in the middle of some research paper or essay of some sort. I started to write fiction about five years ago, though I didn’t try to publish anything at that time. I ended up putting writing aside for many years once I became a mother, and it wasn’t until last spring that I decided my son was old enough that I could devote some of my free time to writing again – I no longer have to worry that I’ll find him swinging from a light fixture or scaling the kitchen cabinets if I focus on something other than him for fifteen minutes… 😉 Since last spring, I’ve written six and a half books! Not too shabby…

Lillian: How did you become a writer and at what point did you sit back and say to yourself, yep, I’m a real live author?

Elizabeth: The how … hmm… Well, when I started writing it really Brothers-Keeper-Finalwasn’t for anyone but myself. I didn’t have plans to even try to publish anything. In fact, so true was that that once I finished writing Brother’s Keeper (the first book I ever wrote) I put it away and started writing The Devil’s Pawn. It really wasn’t until I finished The Devil’s Pawn that I started researching it a bit and then decided there was no harm in trying. I submitted The Devil’s Pawn for consideration, and once it was contracted, I did some final tweaks on Brother’s Keeper and submitted it as well.

When did I decide I was an author? I’m probably still trying to work that one out in my mind. I often say, “I write.” But I’ll admit, I rarely say, “I’m an author.” It still feels awkward and almost … presumptuous to say I’m an author for some reason. In the same way, I hate saying, “I have fans.” Instead, I say, “I have readers.” Bizarre… What can I say? I’m a weirdo.

Lillian: What inspires you to write? Where do you get plot and character ideas from?

Elizabeth: I used to think everyone told stories to themselves in their heads like I did. I’ve always spent hours nearly every day working through a plot of some sort in my mind. I could literally spend an hour or two at night before I’d fall asleep just adding to a story or recreating a part of it. I would usually stick with and perfect one particular story over the course of a month or more before moving on to a new one, and when I was between stories, I found I was really quite miserable being forced to so completely live in the real world. Mind you, it never occurred to me to actually write down the story… Duh… Why didn’t that occur to me?! I really just thought everyone created stories like me. I mean, how else does a person get through the day?

Where do the ideas come from? I honestly have no idea for the most part. It could be based loosely on the setting of some movie I’d seen where I wanted to build a completely new journey around something I’d seen. It could be something as abstract as the dynamic between two people. Sometimes I couldn’t tell you where it comes from.

Lillian: Your book Restoring Jordan is written in alternating first person point of view. This is very unusual. Was writing that way a deliberate decision?

restoringjordanElizabeth: Not in the least. I’m not a trained writer in any way, and what I have learned about writing has come completely from trial, error, guidance, and information I’ve received through the course of having a number of books published. I simply wrote in the voice that came most natural to me. I will admit, I love first person – I truly do, and I won’t be abandoning it. I’m seeing first person used a lot in romance right now (now that I’m actually paying attention to such things). I’ve gotten some amazing feedback from readers who love that I wrote my first three releases in first person, and that feedback was largely about the connection they were able to make to the characters and emotion in the book as a result of using an alternating first person point of view. But just because I think first person is good at capturing emotion in an incredibly honest and authentic way, I haven’t limited myself to only that. I now have books published in: first person present tense alternating point of view, first person present tense single point of view, and third person past tense alternating point of view. I enjoy writing all, and after having just finished writing The Immortals series in third person past tense, I’m kind of looking forward to getting back to first person in the future.

Lillian: There is a lot of detail about the world of renovations in the book. Being a registered building contractor myself I wondered if you have a background in architecture or interior decoration. If not how much research was needed to write the book?

Elizabeth: I have a passion for decorating, and I’ve been surrounded by other elements of design my entire life. My man-half is a contractor who does everything from framing out new construction to trim work and finish carpentry. My father is an amazing woodworker with an incredible woodworking studio. We’ve designed a number of furniture pieces together that he’s then built for me—my bed, my son’s crib, we’ll someday design a full-size bed for my son as well when he’s old enough to help in the process. It’s great fun, and I enjoy it immensely. I grew up being dragged away to the workshop to check out some new project my father was working on, so in some form or another, it’s always touched my life.

Lillian: When you’re not writing what do you like to do with your spare time?

Elizabeth: SLEEP!!! I actually have a day job as a Benefits Specialist for my company’s HR department, I’m a half-time student less than a year away from graduating with my Bachelors in Business Management, and I have a five year old son. Spare time is a rarity for me, and I’m usually too tired, too busy, and just plain too stressed!! But I enjoy my life immensely, and regardless of all the balls I juggle, I always find time to write.

Lillian: If you weren’t a writer what do you think you would be doing with your life?

Elizabeth: Hmm… HR Benefits Specialist!

Lillian: What can we expect in the future from Elizabeth Finn?

Elizabeth: Well, my series, The Immortals, is releasing this spring. immortalprotectorImmortal Protector released on February 25, 2013, and it will be followed by Immortal Distraction on April 15, 2013, and finally, Immortal Healer will release on May 27, 2013. I’m also in the middle of writing a contemporary romance book that I hope to finish and submit sometime in the next couple of months. It’s slow going at the moment as I have two books in edits and am taking a literature course this semester that keeps me tied to my Kindle a lot!

Lillian: Now some questions just for fun?

Movie or a book?

Both in equal measure. I really do love movies, and while they rarely live up to the books they are based on, they’re still loads of fun!!

Sex or chocolate?

Not that I wouldn’t choose sex anyway, but I don’t actually like chocolate… Now if you said Skittles or sex, that’s a tougher call… But I’d still choose sex..! Unless it was a red Skittle perhaps… 😉

Hot or cold?

Cold – you can always add layers. When it’s hot, sometimes you run out of layers to take off and just end up naked in inappropriate situations…

Thanks for being my guest.

Blurb for Immortal Protector:

Theirs was a forever love. At least it was supposed to be…

Truman and Ember met in a cold, dark basement on the day that was to be her last. Kidnapped by a predator at ten years old, Ember wasn’t long for this world. But even Truman, a three-hundred-year-old vampire, was incapable of escaping his humanity with her.

He follows her through her life to ensure her safety, unable to stop fighting for the scared little girl he met so many years in the past.

Truman, like all others of his kind, has the ability to erase memories of himself, and he uses this ability to come in and out of Ember’s life while protecting her from the knowledge of his kind.

When Truman finally caves in to his desire for Ember, he is forced to take the most precious memory she holds. But he never imagined he’d lose his ability to return those memories to her. After Ember is attacked, Truman becomes responsible for a woman without a shred of remembrance of him or their long history together.

She doesn’t trust him, and he resents her cruelty toward him, but as much as she breaks his heart, he can’t give up on them. As Truman fights to win back her trust and remind her of just how good they are at falling in love, a threat looms closer and closer.

Can he save her once more from the clutches of a monster intent on destroying her? Or will her life be lost before her memories are ever found?


Why I love Love Lust and Laptops

Breaking news. The winner of the Jaci Burton giveaway is Laura Podrasky.  Check your email, babe.

Now back to your regular scheduled posting 🙂

One of the ladies the other day said that being part of this blog rocked and I have to agree. I have done group blogs before where you just turned up and posted on your day but this group is different. We’re tight. We like chatting outside of the blog, and do we ever chat. Their is lots of respect, support, love, encouragement and fun behind the scenes.

I do hope that spills over into what you read. It certainly gave rise to the ten days at Lucky’s Bar and Strip club and I do hope that we can do something similar in the future.

So, now that we have been going a while what more do we have to offer?  Lots of fun guests, and I have to admit being able to interview the authors that I love to read is no hardship. The ten free reads are, as we speak, being formatted for publication at a number of places as a freebie so that more people can enjoy them. And last but not least we now have a newsletter. Fingers crossed it will be out in April.

Want to sign up look up and to the right…see the spot?  What will you get in the newsletter? Well articles, news, snippets, excerpts not available elsewhere. Our first newsletter will be turned over to celebrating the work of our very own Becca Jameson. What is she sharing? I have no idea because she is playing hard to get. But I do know it will be something worth reading.

So, as readers how are you enjoying the blog so far? Any suggestions about what you would like to see more of? Any guest suggestions? I have no shame so toss me some names and I will gladly humiliate myself and ask them to join me on the purple crushed velvet couch…I can’t promise they will say yes though.

And finally, a huge thank you to all our readers. This is a bigger, faster, and far more exciting ride than I ever expected when I emailed Rosanna and asked what she thought about me asking some other Liquid Silver Authors to join us in a group blog.

Hang on tight and stay with us, it is turning out to be one hell of a trip.

Guest – Kyoko Church

My guest today on the purple, crushed velvet, couch is Canadian author Kyoko Church. I recently met Kyoko at my local romance writer’s group. Yes, I live in Australia and now, apparently, so does Kyoko. She still has that funny Canadian accent but we will beat it out of her and she’ll be speaking with a nasal twang in no time at all.

Kyoko: Aw, come on! You’re not supposed to say it’s funny, you’re supposed to say it’s cute or sexy! I don’t want you to beat it out of me! That’s right, I’m a BDSM author that’s not so into the beatings. Lol. So sue me. Sensual dominance is more my thing.  🙂

Thank you for agreeing to be my guest.

Kyoko: Thank you for having me! I’m honoured to visit the purple crushed velvet couch. Purple being my fav colour, and all.

Lillian: So, first things first. What was your journey to becoming an author?

Kyoko: I was taking some writing classes and wrote some non-paying parenting articles online and tried submitting a few regular short stories to literary journals with no success. Then one day this sexy story formed in my head and I couldn’t get it to leave me alone. It just went around and around in my brain until I had to write it down in order to be able to have any other thoughts!

After I wrote that story I sent it to the only place I knew published that kind of work, Black Lace Books in the UK. I liked reading their books so it seemed like the natural place to start. Their editor liked the story and said he wanted to publish it. After receiving only rejections on my regular short stories, my first erotica submission, “Delayed Gratification,” got accepted right away. I figured, well, better go with what works!

Lillian: Is writing a fulltime obsession or a part time pleasure?

It was a part time pleasure until I made the decision to move here to Australia. Then I decided to dedicate myself to writing full time.

Lillian: What genre or genres do you write and what motivated you to write them?

I write erotica. As mentioned, at first it was just about going with what worked. But the more I do it the more I love it and the more I realize how it fulfills me. It allows me to explore my fantasies, wonder over them, analyse them. I believe it was Socrates who said “the unexamined life is not worth living” and I couldn’t agree more. I think it makes me a fuller, happier person. Plus, I just have a blast writing about naughty things!

Lillian: As I mentioned above, you have just moved from Canada to South Australia. Why the move, and how do you think your new location will affect your writing?

Almost twenty years ago I made the decision to stay in Canada to be with my husband while the rest of my family moved to South Australia. Last year I was finally able to convince him that it was time to give living in Australia a turn. It ended up easier to convince him after all of our trips here to visit my family. I’ve always loved this country and through our visits he grew to as well. He appreciates the “work to live” as opposed to “live to work” attitude that Aussies have. And of course the weather is a bonus! Plus we live in the Hills and it’s just beautiful here. But for me the biggest motivation was to be reunited with my family. Being able to drive five minutes down the street to pop in on my sister after spending my whole adult life only being able to see her for a few weeks every few years is a dream come true! I’m hoping being deliriously happy in my surroundings affects my writing positively. I really don’t want to go for the whole tortured writer thing.

Lillian: When I first emigrated from the UK many many years ago I was shocked at how bad Australia’s idea of fashion was. What has been the most surprising thing you have discovered about Australia?

Ha, ha, ha!! That’s funny. I’ve been visiting here since I was a child and I remember the fashion being really different too, as well as the music and tv shows. But all that’s changed now, with how accessible everything is thanks to the net, social media, etc.  I mean damn, I turn on the radio here and hear Ryan Seacrest! I know, I’m not saying that’s a good thing, I’m just saying!

I thought I was pretty used to things from all my visits but living here is different than visiting so there have been some surprises. I had never seen the Hills in winter because I always visited in summer so I had no idea how beautiful it is when it’s so green! And it’s always surprising when I find there are still words Aussies say that I haven’t learned yet. I thought I had it all down saying capsicum instead of pepper and rocket instead of arugula. Then someone comes along and says ‘rort.’ Rort? What the heck is rort?? Lol.

Lillian: I have just read your new release ‘For Her Pleasure’, and it’s not your usual romance with an alpha male and a happy ever after.

That it is not. Lol. I know, my mother – who knows kind of what I write, but not really – keeps wanting to recommend it to her friends. I appreciate her support of my work but I keep wanting to say… it may be a bit of an acquired taste! This is not your grandmother’s Fifty Shades!

Maybe you can tell us what inspired the story and why you chose to write it the way you did.

Inspiration came from all sorts of places, as is usually the case, I think. But one of the big ones, funny enough, was from watching Mad Men. Do you watch? I LOVE that show! It’s so well done. My favourite character is Don Draper, because sometimes he’s just so fucking sexy I want to die! But a very close second is the character of Joan, played by Christina Hendricks. First of all, look at her. (And if you don’t know who she is or what I’m talking about, you can check out this board I have on Pinterest!) I mean, I’m pretty hetero but even I want to fuck her. And the way they write for her is brilliance. She pulls off bitch like nobody else. I love it when two opposing things are put together to show each one off in a brighter way, if you know what I mean. The way she can say the absolute worst thing, but all in that silky smooth voice with those big green eyes and heart stopping smile is just awesome.

And it got me thinking. Joan from Mad Men would be the best Domme ever!

That got the ‘what ifs’ flowing, which is always where great stories come from for me. What if Joan was a Domme? What if the humiliation she enjoyed inflicting – because she so obviously enjoys it – was an erotic one? What if there was a guy who got off on her doing that? And things just went from there.

Lillian: The book is very sexy. Do you struggle to write sex scenes or do they just flow?

Thank you! So glad you think it’s sexy. Sex scenes almost always just flow for me. I find if I’m struggling it’s because I’m writing parts that are not sexy in order to get to the sexy. When that happens I will often just start writing the sexy bits and fill in the blanks after … and I often find I don’t really have to fill in much. I mean, I don’t know about you, but when I’m reading a sexy book I sometimes just skim to get to the good bits. I know, I’m a bad girl like that. J But I figure if I do that, others must too. So I just try to make all my stuff the good bits! So if you want one big horny parade of naughty adventures, buy my books!

Lillian: What is in the future for you? What books do I need to add to my TBR list?

Aw, you’re going to read more of my stuff? I’m so flattered! You can see all of my books and short stories on the Read Me page on my blog, I have a trilogy called The Draper Estates and I’m working on Book Three for that series currently. Plus I just found out this week that Sweetmeats Press has accepted one of my short stories. If you’re unfamiliar with what they do you should check them out at They are a unique publisher because they pair erotic fiction with beautiful (and totally explicit!) illustrations.  So I am absolutely thrilled about their acceptance and totally excited to see what their artists come up with for my work. And it will be in print as well as digital! I haven’t had a print copy of my work in a while!

Now some questions just for fun.

Okay! Yay!

Chocolate or sex?

If you tack “or sex” onto the end of any choice, I’m pretty much gonna go for sex every time. As I said, I’m a bad girl like that. And I don’t like chocolate that much!

Hot or cold?

That’s difficult! It depends! But right now I’m looking out at my pool… so I’m going to go with hot.

Dom or Sub?

Oh, now you’re just being mean. You’re gonna make me choose that? Okay. Sub. *blush*

Jimmy Choo’s or Manolo Blahnik?

Okay, now you’re outing me as total fraud! I know what I said in my book, but I actually don’t know that much about high end shoes! Lol. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love shoes. I’m just a little too thrifty for to go for the really posh ones.

Thanks for playing along.  🙂

Thanks for sending such great questions! It was total fun.

Want to know about Kyoko’s naughty book?


For Her Pleasure


Imagine an average guy with a wife, a job, average house, average car, average sex life… Well, not exactly. He has a secret he finds so embarrassing that he never talks to anyone about it. And then one day he meets her…

An architect chairs the newly formed Sexual Harassment in the Workplace Committee. When the consultant he hires to help him organize the new committee turns out to be a red haired bombshell, he tries to rein in his untoward thoughts.

But when she uncovers his embarrassing little secrets, this married man ends up in a relationship that’s so wrong on every level of his carefully put together life.

How long will he let his burning carnal desires threaten everything he’s worked so hard for?


When he got back to his office she was stretched out on the leather sofa beneath the large picture window that looked out high over the city. Her feet were up, Kate Spade heels on the floor. Again, those red toenails.

He shut the door behind him.

‘I hope you don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I made myself comfortable while I was waiting. Been on my feet all day.’ The look she gave him then could only be described as imploring. Imploring in a way that sucked his gaze back to those gorgeous feet. An inexplicably helpless feeling bloomed in his chest.

‘Have a seat,’ she said, indicating the sofa beside her.

He settled uncomfortably at the other end, not knowing where to look or how to position his body. She chuckled. ‘A little closer, silly,’ she said, lifting her foot up, offering it to him as he moved closer. He blushed but took it, gently. Her foot was surprisingly small and slender, the skin pale so the red toenails stood out sharply.

His mind raced. Raced. Everything in his brain screamed how wrong this was, how they were the two people in the entire building most aware of the wrongness, charged as they were with informing the entire company on the intricacies of how wrong everything about a man touching a woman’s foot in a work setting was.

Especially when said man was pitching a tent in his pants.

But he absolutely could not stop. His dick screamed back at his brain to shut the fuck up, just shut up for once and let me have this one.

Well, what harm would a little consensual foot rub do? That was the key word, right? Consensual. He began to massage slowly.

‘Wait a second.’ He looked up. ‘Turn to me a little,’ she said. ‘That’s right. Now lift your knee up onto the couch.’ He did so and jumped as she placed her other foot gently but firmly against his crotch. ‘Keep rubbing,’ she commanded, gesturing at the foot in his hand. ‘I just want to make sure you’re not getting excited.’ Fire exploded in his face. He looked away from her, at her foot, then looked away from that.

She laughed. ‘It’s OK,’ she cooed. ‘I know you like my feet. And I do need a foot rub right now. So you rub my foot.’ He hesitated. ‘Do it,’ she said, not laughing now. ‘But I just need to make sure, you know, for legal reasons, that you’re not being a disgusting pervert and getting all excited about my pretty feet. I need to make sure this foot rub is just about you doing something I’ve asked you to do for me. Alright? For massage therapy purposes.’

How could he be so confused and at the same time his dick be growing? Did she mean it? Of course she didn’t, but he couldn’t be sure.

He rubbed, obediently trying to clear his mind, trying to think of anything but her slim foot in his hands. But there was also the pressure of her other foot against him. And then she started making little noises. Little whimpers, groans of pleasure. ‘Mmm, that’s right,’ she purred. ‘Ooo, right there, that feels so good.’  He was helpless. He sat helplessly rubbing her sexy foot while his cock grew with a mind of its own.

‘Oh my god, what is going on?’ She looked at him. ‘I can feel you, you know,’ she said, wiggling her toes against his stiffness, only worsening matters. ‘God, what horny little thoughts are going through your head? Was it the noises I was making?’ she chided. ‘I was only enjoying the foot rub! You weren’t thinking that’s what I sound like when I fuck, were you?’ Oh! To hear that word. To hear that word come out of her mouth. It hung in the air, like a spark, like an echo. A mere half hour ago she had been standing in the conference room lecturing on what constituted inappropriate language in the workplace! But he could not deny that he had never heard that word sound so fucking sexy ever before. A hard slap of a word and when she said it he immediately wanted nothing more than to do it. With her. Now.

He stared into his lap, unable to respond. ‘Well, if you are going to act like a horny, little dog, then that’s how I’m going to have to treat you.’

This is how it was that the chair of the sexual harassment committee of X Architects found himself on all fours on the floor in front of this goddess, pants around his knees, praying, hoping against hope that no one opened the door to his office that he didn’t think to lock, while he humped his straining shaft against her foot like some kind of human lap dog.

It was sheer and utter madness. And he was powerless against it.

Even though she didn’t make it easy for him, did things like swing her foot away, complain that he was going too fast, laugh, force him to keep all four limbs on the ground, to not use his hands, even still his little problem reared its ugly head.

He spurted, hips helplessly bucking, after two minutes.

Oh no.

Here it comes.

He knelt in front of her and braced himself. He steeled himself against the familiar onslaught of feeling – frustration, anger, shame – that always raged through him like a firestorm, burning through everything in its path. But instead of the usual reactions of disappointment, pity, anger or worse, the yawning silence, pregnant with judgments and unspoken resentment, there was something different.

Giggling. Like tinsel. Like glasses chinking together, crystal laughter.

‘My, my, my, we are the eager little beaver, aren’t we?’

Heat rose, he could hear the blood pump through the vessels in his head.

‘That’s OK, sweetie,’ she said and she leaned over, put her lips right next to his ear, so he could feel her breath on his skin. ‘Mistress has all sorts of ways of dealing with a horny little puppy like you,’ she whispered.

Oh fuck.

‘Starting with,’ she said, dipping her finger in the creamy mess on her foot, ‘rubbing your nose in it.’ She swiped her finger across the space between his nose and his upper lip. A moustache of his own shame. The sharp, acrid odour immediately brought a fresh jolt of humiliation. ‘You may not rub or wash that off,’ she announced. She took his chin with her fingers, stared right into his eyes. His heart pounded in terror. ‘You will wear your disgusting mess on your face. It will be there for all of the rest of your meetings today.’ Oh god. ‘And when you go home and kiss your wife.’ Oh god! ‘And when you put your head on your pillow tonight.’ She sighed then, closed those gorgeous eyes and smiled.  ‘When you have your shower tomorrow morning you may wash it off then.’ He realized then he wasn’t breathing and took in a gasping breath.

And suddenly he realized something else. Something astounding.

He was hard again. Harder than he had been the first time.

There was shame. But no anger. There was humiliation. But no frustration.

Pure humiliation. Not blazing, like the white hot heat of the firestorm of his secret torment, but rolling in slowly, like molasses, covering him, turning his insides liquid, enveloping him in a mass of humility, shrinking him down, making him want to place his hard, needy little cock before her in an act of complete submission.

And what she did then made it throb and ache even more.

She leaned in and placed the smallest little kiss with her full, soft, pouty red lips right on the tip of his nose. Like the period at the end of a sentence.

There it was. Just like that. Turned a hair to the left. His torment died.

His kink was born.

Buy Link


Kyoko Church discovered the power of the written erotic word when she was 16 years old and penned a very explicit missive to her boyfriend detailing all the naughty things she wanted to do to him. When he received it, boyfriend was impressed. When he found it, father was not. For the next 18 years she hid her naughty thoughts in shame until she found a community where they were once again appreciated for the well-imagined smut they are. Her short stories have been published in anthologies by Black Lace, Rubicund Publishing, Xcite Books and HarperCollins Mischief Books. Book One, Nymphomania, and Book Two, Sapphic Secrets, in her Draper Estate Trilogy were published by Xcite in 2012. For Her Pleasure was published by HarperCollins Mischief in February 2013. A Canuck by birth, she has recently made Australia her home. She is currently learning to drive on the left and say G’day convincingly.



Jaci Burton Interview and Giveaway

Closed for comments. 

Enjoy the interview and be sure to leave a comment for your chance to win an autographed print copy of Jaci’s book Thrown By A Curve.

Lillian: Today my guest on the purple crushed velvet couch is the wonderful New York Times best selling author, Jaci Burton. I have to admit to having a huge fangirl moment when Jaci agreed to let me interrogate her. Relax Jaci, I promise to be gentle. So far everyone I have interviewed has escaped unharmed.

Jaci: Totally relaxed here and eager to get started!

Lillian: So, firstly a huge thank you, Jaci, for agreeing to be my guest.

Jaci: Thanks for inviting me to be here! 🙂

Lillian: In preparation for this interview I went and checked out your website. There goes hours of my life I’ll never get back.  You have been a very busy lady and you have some delicious book covers.

Jaci: Thank you! I’ve been extremely lucky in the book cover department, thanks to my publisher.

Lillian: For those people who have never heard of you maybe you can start by telling us a bit about the genres you write and why you chose them.

Jaci: In the the past I wrote in a lot of different genres, which you’ll be able to tell if you browse around my website. Right now, though, I write primarily contemporary romance.

When I first started out, I wanted to get a feel for who I was as a writer, which I strongly encourage every new author to do. You really don’t know who you’re going to be and where you belong until you find what you love. So I dabbled in different genres—everything from paranormal to romantic suspense to futuristic and fantasy. It took me a few years to decide I really loved contemporary romance most of all. I’ve been writing contemporary romance for several years now and that’s where I’m the happiest.

Lillian: How did you get your big break in publishing?

Jaci: I had always written very hot love scenes, which didn’t really fit the market I was trying to break into at the time. That’s when I found Ellora’s Cave, who was publishing digital erotic romance. I thought they’d be a good fit for me, so I submitted a book to them and they published my first book. It was a very exciting time for me because I felt they really marketed the kinds of books that fit my voice back then. Plus digital publishers back in the early 2000’s were the few publishers who allowed their authors to push the envelope as far as writing whatever they wanted to write, topic and genre wise.  In 2005 I signed contracts with Berkley and with Bantam Dell which allowed me to expand my reach into traditional print publishing as well as digital publishing. Currently I’m writing for Berkley and very happy there. It’s been a thrill ride for me, for sure.

Lillian: I do have to admit to being a big fan of your Play by Play series. What inspired you to write books about sports heroes?

Jaci: I actually have the awesome Maya Banks to thank for the idea for the Play by Play series. I was going to propose a new series to my publisher, and needed to come up with a new idea. She suggested I write a sports series and thought it’d be perfect for me. I owe all the thanks to Maya for that idea. She’s kind of brilliant that way.

Lillian: Are you a big sports fan?

Jaci: I’m a huge sports fan and have been ever since I was a child. I was born and raised in St Louis, Missouri, which is a big sports city. My dad was a sports fan and there was always sports on television and on the radio when we were kids. My love for football, hockey and baseball grew out of being surrounded by it during my childhood.

Lillian: Just in case you can’t tell from my funny nasal accent, I’m an Aussie not an America, and added to that I really don’t do sport. American football, for the uninitiated, seems to be about spending as much time grabbing each other’s butts and standing around in huddles talking, as it does playing something that seems to have very little to do with kicking a ball. As for baseball, I know it’s a bit like the rounders I played at high school. The only thing I remember about that is if you daydream on first base you can anticipate not seeing the ball before it hits you in the face and breaks your nose. So, how do you manage to write the sports sections in your books so that they make sense to non American couch potatoes like me?

Jaci: And conversely, me being an American knows nothing about that whole rugby thing other than it seems the guys hug each other while turning around in a big circle, then try to beat the crap out of each other while piling on. It’s funny how sports differ in different countries, isn’t it? But hey, I do know soccer, which seems to be a universal sport!

As far as writing about sports, I try to keep in mind that not everyone who reads my books actually has an understanding or liking for the sport I’m writing about. Plus, I’m writing a romance, not a sports book, so while I might pepper the book with sports references or an occasional game situation, I don’t want the entire book to be a sports journal. But I hope the book has enough flavor and explanation that anyone who doesn’t ‘get’ sports will at least have an idea about what’s going on, be able to follow it and not get lost.

Lillian: Of all the characters in your Play by Play series I have to admit to having a real soft spot for Liz. How hard was it to take a kick arse take no prisoners sports agent and have her fall in love without changing her character?

Jaci: I love Liz. She’s undoubtedly my favorite female character in this series. She’s strong, successful in what has traditionally been a man’s field, which is a sports agent, and while she’s made mistakes along the way, she’s atoned for them and learned from them. Liz is very smart, so she takes in every new situation and adapts. As far as changing her character, I think everyone changes as they grow. I’ve put Liz in a lot of my Play by Play books—likely because I love and adore her so much. And I’ve continued to see growth and change in her character as she moves along in her relationship with Gavin. It’s fun to see that. But Liz will never really change who she is, which is a strong, dynamic character who works hard and loves fully.

Lillian: As I mentioned before the covers on your Play by Play series are works of art. I’m happy to admit that I’m so shallow I bought the Perfect Play so that I could lick the cover.  The fact the story was fantastic was a bonus and I was hooked on your books for life. How much input do you have in the cover design, and how important do you think the cover of a book is to gaining reader’s attention?

Jaci: Thank you! And hey, that’s not shallow at all. Those covers are definitely lickable. 😉

I’ve been madly in love with the Play by Play covers since The Perfect Play landed on my desk. I give full credit to the Berkley art department for their skill and imagination in giving me the best covers I’ve ever received. As far as input, my editor and I discuss the concept of each book and how we might want the cover to look as far as the tone and feel of the character. But frankly, I give the art department free rein to create the cover as they see fit. I’m a writer, not a cover artist, so it’s not my field of expertise, it’s theirs. And so far, they’ve done an amazing job.

Lillian: Do you have to do a lot of research for you books? What is the strangest or most outrageous thing you have ever done in the name of research?

Jaci: Fortunately, I love sports and I love going to games. I have a pretty good understanding of the sports I write. Though, honestly, watching a sport and writing about it are two different things. There is a level of research you have to do to make sure you get the plays written correctly, and that each season is played during the right times of year, and you don’t have a player doing something they wouldn’t ordinarily do in a game situation. So in that respect, I have researched each sport rather extensively.

As far as the strangest or most outrageous thing I’ve ever done in the name of research? Hmmm… That’s a loaded question. What won’t writers do in the name of research? I tend to ask people in various professional fields a lot of very strange questions. Once they find out I’m a writer doing research for a book, they’re generally very nice about answering those questions. When I was writing romantic suspense, I’m sure I worried the detective I was interviewing when I asked him questions about the different ways you could kill someone and how not to leave evidence on the body. But, again, book research.

Lillian: If Jaci Burton wasn’t a writer, heaven forbid, what do you think you would have done with your life?

Jaci: I actually had a full time career before I became a writer. I spent many years in the corporate world, in management. Daily reports, sales meetings, doing budgets and things like that. Quite boring, actually, and not nearly as exciting as being a writer.

Lillian: When you’re not writing what do you like to do with your spare time?

Jaci: I love to be outside whenever the weather permits. WE have a garden in the summer and we grow vegetables. We ride on the motorcycle and we travel. WE love to go to the casino and gamble, though we don’t win as often as we’d like to. I also love to watch TV and watch way more than I should, but I’m hooked on so many shows it’s like an addiction. Uh, I’ll just call it research.

Lillian: Is writing a full time occupation for you? And if it is how do you keep things fresh so you don’t start to feel like it’s just another job?

Jaci: It is a full time job for me and has been for several years. But since every book is a new adventure for me, with new characters and new situations, it’s like starting a brand new job with every book, so how could it possibly ever get boring?

Lillian: What does the future hold? What books do you have coming soon or in progress for us to look forward to?

Jaci: I just turned in Melting the Ice, Book 7 in my Play by Play series. This is Drew’s book and it’s all about hockey again.

Right now I’m working on Holiday Games, a Play by Play holiday novella that will release in November. Since we talked a lot about Liz earlier, I’ll tell you that it focuses a lot on Liz and Gavin’s relationship, but it also includes the entire Riley family. I’m having so much fun writing this novella.

Coming up in June is the next Play by Play book, One Sweet Ride. It’s an auto racing book and features Gray Preston, who I know everyone is going to fall madly in love with.

In July is the release of the Hot Summer Nights anthology, which features Hope Smolders, my novella introducing my new Hope contemporary romance series.

In September, Hope Flames releases, the first single title in my Hope series. I’m so excited about this new series and I can’t wait for everyone to read it.

Now some questions just for fun:

Movie or a good book?

Movie. Followed by a good book (I know…I cheated on this one)

Sex or chocolate?

Sex. Followed by chocolate (I can’t help myself. I cheated again)

Hot or cold?

Definitely hot. I hate the cold!

Motorbike or sportscar?

This is a tough one. But I do love sports cars (Don’t tell my husband I didn’t choose motorcycle)

Football or Baseball?

Oh, come on. Don’t make me choose. But I do love football.

Leather or silk?

Leather on him. Silk on me. (Still cheating here.)

Lucky’s: Ciaran by Lillian Grant



Lillian Grant

Irish born, Australian stripper, Ciaran Monaghan closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He tried thinking cleansing thoughts about puppies, flowers, and soft falling rain, but his brain refused to co-operate. He couldn’t even conjure a picture of his grandmother to set him back on the straight and narrow. The only memory he appeared to have was the one of Leah dancing tight against him, rubbing her hot nubile body all over his naked flesh in rehearsals. Nothing was working.

The music filtering through from the front of the house changed to Duran Duran’s “Reflex.” Thankfully, he had the dressing room to himself, but the boys would be back as soon as the song ended. Even worse, he was due on stage with Leah to take their place. He wished his cousin Michael to hell and back. Why did he have to be the one to step into Michael’s shoes after he pulled a groin muscle?

They’d left Sydney and been on tour for six weeks. Despite Leah continually flirting, he’d kept his distance. Michael had threatened to remove the balls of any of the strippers who messed with his dance partner, slash troupe costume designer. Unfortunately, Leah mustn’t have gotten that particular memo.

Michael had his lovers, Maggie and Sam, on tour to keep him warm; Leah had no one. And from the way she’d rubbed against him in rehearsals, Ciaran could only assume she was ready to kindle her flame and light his wick. Sweat trickled down his back, and he panted in an effort to wrestle back control of his mind from his rampant dick.  He was running out of time.

Fuck it. No way on God’s green earth was he getting naked in front of Leah and a room full of horny women with an erection he could use to hammer nails. Desperate times called for desperate measures. He tugged the towel loose and let it fall to pool around his feet. He wrapped a fist around his throbbing dick. A low moan escaped him as he squeezed and pumped hard. So good, so damn good. Two minutes and he’d be all right. Two minutes and Leah could rub herself against him as much as she liked, and his cock would lie dormant, spent, used, and empty.

Leah. Just her name made him weep precum.

A bang sounded on the door, and he jumped. “Jeysus.” He pumped faster. So close. He couldn’t go on stage with blue balls. Now it was worse than it would have been if he’d just left the bleedin’ thing alone.

A deep female voice called out, “Ciaran? Are you all right.”

“Minute.” His voice sounded strained. She was outside. God help him. He was going to explode. The force of it would make him scream her name, he just knew it. He didn’t do anything quietly, and this would be an ejaculation that measured ten on the Richter scale. They would be wiping spunk off the walls for days after.

The door slammed open. He yelped, moving his hands to try and cover the biggest frigging erection he’d ever had. Viagra could use him in their advertising the thing was so bleedin’ hard. “Leah.”

He turned his back and fumbled to pick up the towel as the dressing room door snicked closed. The sound of high heels tapped across the floor toward him.


He shook his head as he attempted to use the towel to lasso the swollen monster and secure it against his stomach. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

She stepped around him and grinned. “I can see that. Jack off a lot before a performance do you?”

Tears filled his eyes his balls ached so much. “Not a lot. Special circumstances.”

She ran a finger down the middle of his sweat dampened chest and over the bulge under his towel. “We’re running out of time. How about I take care of it for you?”

“What?” Oh God, he was having one of those dreams again. The one where Leah the dark-haired, green-eyed siren sucked him dry and then rode him until his dick ached from over use. She even wore the tiny, red, flouncy skirt that barely covered her butt cheeks, the white silk corset that showed impressive cleavage and a hint of nipple, and the thigh-high soft leather boots she wore in his imagination. Any minute now he would wake up in a lather of sweat.

She tugged at the top of his towel. “Let me take care of it. Relax. You haven’t got anything I haven’t seen before. In fact I’ve seen yours, felt it, and measured it for the trunks you currently have no hope of getting into.”

Ciaran held on fast to his towel and stepped backwards until his butt hit the edge of the dressing table. Randy’s penis pump clattered to the floor and an extra large box of condoms toppled over scattering its contents across the table top. In his dreams, he would have welcomed any sexual contact with luscious Leah. In real life he was in a flat panic. If Michael caught him, he’d be sent home. “I can’t touch you.”

Her cherry red lips curved into a smile. “You don’t need to touch me, hot stuff.”

Before he could stop her, she ripped his towel off and grabbed a handful of cock. He opened his mouth to protest, but all that came out was a deep moan. Leah smiled as she ran a fingertip along the slit. He placed his hands on the dressing table behind him. If anyone asked, he hadn’t touched her, even though he ached to lift her onto his throbbing dick and ride her hard.

“Tell me this is a dream?” Michael couldn’t kill him for dreaming.

“Dream about me a lot, do you?”

“More than is probably decent.”

She let out a throaty giggle. “Glad to hear it. I dream about you too.”

She pumped his shaft and used her other hand to cup his balls.

“Oh Jeysus, don’t stop. Yes, stop. I’m going to mess up your costume. It’ll be all over you. I can’t…”

Leah dropped to her knees and sucked him deep into her mouth.

His yell of, “Bleedin’ hell,” echoed around the room.  He couldn’t hold back. His hips pumped as she worked him hard with her mouth, sucking and teasing. When her throat closed around his cock, he was undone. With a shudder that almost knocked him on his arse, spunk shot the length of his dick. He should have given her the option to pull away, but he couldn’t stop. Thrust after glorious thrust and she just kept working him.



Leah let Ciaran’s soft dick slide from her mouth and pushed up onto her feet.  She should kiss Michael for making Ciaran dance with her. She’d wanted to get her hands on Ciaran’s privates for something more than costume adjustments since the first day she’d seen him drop his pants. The boy had an impressive package. His dry sense of humor, cute personality, hot body, and blue eyes to die for had turned lust into something so much more. But he never showed a flicker of interest beyond flirting. She’d begun to think he was gay. Despite all the free pussy available after a show, he never hooked up with anyone as far as she could tell.

She leaned over, brushed her erect nipples across Ciaran’s naked chest, and then tugged a tissue from the box. His breathing was erratic, and his eyes were closed. Her body shuddered with unrequited lust. Unfortunately, she would have to find some other time to try and persuade Ciaran to return the favor. If they were late on stage, Michael would get pissed off.

Carefully, she took Ciaran’s now flaccid dick in hand and wiped off the red lipstick stains she’d left behind. Despite him erupting and filling her throat with more cum than she’d thought possible for a human male to produce, his cock twitched to life.

After dropping the tissue in the wastebasket, she brushed a kiss across his lips. He latched on to her hips and dragged her tightly against him. The chaste kiss became so much more as he plunged his tongue into her mouth. She fought the urge to let him do as he would with her. Her pussy was drenched, and she ached to be filled, but any minute the door would open and nine sweaty, noisy, lewd men would fill the room. She pushed against his chest and broke free. After taking a deep breath, she smiled.  “You’d better hurry, or you’ll be appearing naked. See you on stage.”

Without a backward glance she fled the room. She needed to fix her makeup and be in position, ready to dance.


Ciaran grabbed a bottle of water and chugged it down. What the fuck? Oh God, now dancing with her would be worse than before. Now he knew what her mouth felt like on his dick. He ran his fingers through his sweat dampened hair as the door opened.

Michael leaned against the doorframe. “Nice, but you’re supposed to arrive on stage dressed and get naked for the ladies, not arrive naked to begin with.”

“Fuck off.”

Michael grinned. “Not right now. My groin is still not what it was.”

“If you stopped your entourage from tugging you all the time, you might have some chance of recovery.”

“Maggie and Sam are doing wonders for my ailment. If you got yourself a lady friend, you might be a little less highly strung. You look like shite. Tidy up, get dressed, and get your scrawny arse on stage before the audience gets bored waiting and start a riot.”

Ciaran saluted. “Yes, sir.”

“And quit being a smart arse.”

Ciaran tugged on a purple silk g-string, Michael’s purple shirt, leather pants, and jacket. He guessed it was lucky for him they were the same size. That had been the reason Michael had insisted he fill the spot.

After one last look in the mirror, Ciaran inhaled deeply and made his way to stage left. The boys trooped off, one by one, high fiving him as they passed. As the props boys cleared the stage of clothing and discarded hand weights, Ciaran braced himself.  He could do this.

The first notes of Britney Spear’s “Toxic” filled the air, and he strode into the spotlight to meet Leah who had entered the stage from the other side. She showed no sign of nerves or any after effects from their impromptu tryst. This was her number. She owned the dance, and Ciaran was just a foil. A foil she would strip to a g-string before the song ended.

As soon as they met at center stage, she draped herself over him and the dance took over. She moved to stand behind him and ran her hands over his silk clad chest before cupping his package. He fought the desire to thrust against her hands. The feel of her warm breath and the whispered words, “Can you feel the throb?” made him gasp for air. Shite, he was done for.

Leah grabbed Ciaran’s shoulder and spun him around. Her look of wide-eyed innocence as she vamped it up for the howling audience didn’t fool him for a second. The tease meant to drive him nuts.

She took hold of his jacket and dragged him across the stage. He broke free and wrapped his arms around her waist, dipping her backwards. Britney sang on as he licked the side of Leah’s neck. She sagged, he spun her, and then she dropped onto her hands and knees. His pulse raced as he caught a glimpse of the bottom of her naked butt cheeks. Heaven help him, he wanted to kiss her arse and bury himself between those glorious creamy thighs. Before he could act on either desire, Leah pushed back up onto her feet and shoved him in the chest. She tugged his jacket down his arms and threw it aside.

She slipped into his embrace and ground against him. Her smile was devastating, but her whisper of, “I’m not wearing any panties,” before she spun away almost had him on his knees.

When she fell back against him, he mumbled, “Why not?”

To the beat of the song, she strutted around him, running the tip of a finger over his body. She stopped and leaned forward to give him a lick behind the ear. “They were soaked.”

He struggled to say something, anything, but she slipped away. He stumbled across the stage after her like a love sick puppy, falling onto his back in time to the beat. She placed a booted foot in the middle of his chest. His hip thrusts took on a life of their own at the glimpse of her bare pussy.

What the fuck? Was she trying to kill him?

When she flounced away, he scrambled to his feet and followed. She made short work of his purple shirt and leather stripper pants. The music moved played on, and he danced the steps without thought or care. Any minute now he would be living his favorite fantasy and worst nightmare.

In time to the throbbing beat, he turned the dance around. Suddenly Leah was the prey, and he, the stalker. He walked her back to a makeshift wall and dragged her up his body. Her legs straddled his hips. Their lips met in a searing kiss as he ground against her. Tongues tangled and moans filled the air.

His thin silk thong was the only thing that stopped him from impaling her on an increasingly interested dick. She writhed in fake ecstasy, although when they broke the kiss the glazed look in her eyes looked much too real. Hidden by her skirt, he slipped his hands lower to cup her naked butt. When she made no protest, he stroked the hand hidden from the audience along her thigh so his fingertips slid over her pussy.

God save him, she was so frickin’ hot and wet, really wet. “Shite. You’re going to kill me.”

She blinked all wide-eyed and innocent. “I’d never do that.”

“Have you no Christian concern for my health?”

Her grin was wide and her cheeks flushed as she moved subtly against his wandering fingers.

All his self control evaporated. The skimpy g-string barely contained his raging erection. Any minute now, she would dance out of his arms, and the whole bar would see him sporting wood. He risked starting a riot. Maybe he could walk off with her still wrapped around him.

Before he could put his plan into action, she slid down his body and strutted across the stage. He followed behind trying not to stare at the intriguing glimpses of her bare arse cheeks as her skirt swished with each step. Nothing would hide the fact he was aroused, and he decided to wear it with pride. Fuck. The ladies in the audience were getting far more than they usually paid for.

Leah stopped and slid into his arms. The warmth of her hands pressed tightly against his hips made him shudder. A couple of inches and she could grab his dick. It twitched in anticipation. “Jeysus woman, you’re such a tease. Don’t you have any feelings for me at all?” he muttered under his breath.

She grabbed the sides of his g-string and whispered, “Sure I do, you moron. I love you.”

She loved him. Leah loved him.

He knew he was grinning like a goofy fool.  It felt as if his heart had swollen to fill his chest, leaving no room for his lungs. He fought to breathe. Cool air bathed his raging cock.

Fuck, she’d forgotten the “no nudity rule” in New York and ripped his bleedin’ g-string off. He pressed his hands over the throbbing monster and made a run for cover. Catcalls from the audience filled the air as he finally made it behind the curtain.

Leah stood two feet away. She grinned and twirled the silk thong on the end of a finger. “You want it?”

Ciaran dropped his hands from his crotch. “What do you think?”

He gave her no time to answer, instead he swept her into his arms and marched down the hallway. She giggled and squirmed. “Oh, so manly.”

“I’ll give you manly when I get you alone.”

“Is that what you call him? Manly? That’s so cute.”

“My dick is not cute.”

She tipped her head back and laughed.

Enough. He was done with all this teasing. He kicked the dressing room door open and nine pairs of male eyes turned to glare at him. “Fuck.”



Leah snuggled closer. “Fuck indeed, but maybe we should use my room. I prefer not to have an audience . . .  the first time.”

Ciaran groaned. She giggled as he stumbled back the way they’d come and marched toward the private room that Lucky let visiting big name strippers use.

“Door.” He muttered, his voice a deep growl.

Leah reached down and turned the handle. Ciaran lurched inside and dropped her onto the red, fake leather couch. He kicked the door shut and flicked the lock before turning back and staring at her. His dick was still erect, and she swore she could see it throbbing.

“Too many clothes.”

She got to her feet. “A man of few words. I like that. You want me to give you a little show? Or maybe you’d like to strip me yourself?”

His chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath. “You do it.”

Leah crossed the room and hit the play button on the CD player. Slow, sultry saxophone music filled the air. He hadn’t said anything about her declaration of love. Maybe he hadn’t heard her above the screaming women and loud music. She did think he might have run in the opposite direction if he had. For now she would keep her feelings to herself and see where this newfound lust led them. Meanwhile, if Ciaran wanted a show, she was happy to oblige, in fact more than happy to oblige.

She took her time and swayed to the beat. All her training as a pole dancer came into good use as she gyrated, twisted, and turned to give her poor captive a glimpse of naked, moist pussy. Slowly, she unlaced the front of her corset and let it slide down her body to reveal her full breasts. She grabbed a handful of each and massaged herself in time to the heady rhythm. Ciaran let out a low whimper and she giggled. She’d hardly started and he was practically on his knees already.

Slipping her fingers in her mouth, she sucked them hard before running them over each nipple, leaving them glistening and erect. Ciaran licked his lips. She smiled. Her baby was obviously a boob man. She could only imagine how good it would feel to have his mouth on her, sucking and teasing until she begged him to fill her up and bang her hard.

She twirled and dipped in time to the music. Hands on the floor, she glanced between her open legs at Ciaran. The poor man had tipped over the edge and had his fist wrapped around his dick as if it was his last lifeline to sanity. She should take pity on him and get this over with. Pushing back upright, she unhooked and unzipped her skirt, letting it slither to the floor, and then kicked it aside.

She reached to tug off a boot, but Ciaran pounced and grabbed her hands. “Leave them on.”

“You like the boots?” She wrapped an arm around his neck, grabbed his dick, and slipped it between her thighs. She pressed her legs together to trap his engorged flesh. With both arms wrapped around him, she captured his mouth and kissed him long and hard.  She slowly thrust her hips so his dick moved against her slick lower lips. Moisture pooled between her legs, and she moaned into his mouth as his cock brushed her aching clit.

He fisted his hands in her hair and hauled her back. “Enough play time.”

“You don’t want to play? Have I been a bad girl?” She ran a finger down his chest and over his tight abs.

“God save me. I’m going to spurt if you keep that up.”

She flicked his nipple ring. “I’m ready when you are, baby.”

Ciaran hauled her up his body, and they fell onto the sofa in a tangle of arms and legs. Leah sighed as he gorged himself on her breasts. She’d been right, her man loved her titties.


He could die a happy man with his face buried in Leah’s boobs. Soft, warm, kissable, suckable, delicious tits. However, much more was on offer. Next time he’d give her breasts the adulation they deserved, assuming there was a next time.

She’d said she loved him. So, there would be a next time. Wouldn’t there? Unless he was a huge disappointment.

He hadn’t said it back. Should he tell her how he felt? What if she’d been kidding? He could freak her out and then he’d be left with the world’s worst case of blue balls and tomorrow he would be going through this torment again. He was over thinking this. The musky scent of her arousal filled his nostrils. Take a chance, dive in head first and to hell with the consequences.

Leah opened her eyes and stared at him. “You okay?”

“Perfect.” He slid down her body and kissed his way over her stomach. He flicked his tongue over her bare mound. She lifted her hips, moaning softly, and he grinned. That was all the encouragement he needed. Her pretty pink clit sat proud. He teased it with his lips and tongue until it throbbed at his touch. She threaded her fingers through his hair and shoved his face into her pussy.

He grabbed her arse with both hands and lifted her  so he could lick the length of her slit. She tasted glorious, and the way she whimpered and shook made him throb in response.

There was still so much to explore. So many places he wanted to take her without ever leaving the couch. Her moans grew louder as he ran the tip of his tongue around her entrance.

Leah was a sensitive little thing. However, even if she begged, he wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. When he slammed into her, it would be a short but wild ride. He could usually hold back his own release for as long as required to get his lady off, but he was concerned this time he would be a thirty-second-man.

Leah deserved his best, but was unlikely to get it. His cock was primed, loaded, and ready to release its payload at any given second.

He wiggled his tongue inside her opening; her muscles clamped down drawing him deeper. She was on the edge, but he wouldn’t let her tip over without him. If she climaxed with his face in her pussy, he’d disgrace himself. Nothing would kill the moment more than wiping a pool of cum off the sofa.

Ciaran dropped one last kiss on her pussy, sucked her lower lips, and inhaled her fragrance before pulling free. “Condom?”

He prayed she had one. She pushed up onto her elbows, pink-cheeked, damp with sweat, and never more beautiful. His breath caught in his throat.

“Dressing table.”

He crossed the room and upturned the box he found, scattering the contents all over the floor. After making his selection, he ripped it open with his teeth and sheathed himself as he made his way back to the delicious delight currently sprawled, legs akimbo, waiting to receive him.

She wiggled to the edge of the sofa. He knelt on the floor, positioned himself for entry, and plunged deep. His dick swelled as her muscles tightened around him. He groaned and held still as release hovered way too close; they would go over together.

Leah wiggled, and he pulled out before plunging back inside. Her whimpers made him harden to the point of pain. He sucked a finger and ran it around her exposed clit. Her hips bucked. He bit back a curse. Shite, he needed her to finish. He needed to come before his balls exploded.

He massaged her bud in time with each thrust. When the first ripples of her orgasm grabbed his dick, he let his control go. Jerk after jerk, he plunged harder, deeper.

“Ciaran, don’t stop!”

“Leah!” The sound of her name bounced off the walls as he came hard. Finally spent, sweaty and exhausted he collapsed on top of her. She shivered beneath him.

The steady beat of her heart matched his own. When she kissed the top of his head, he shifted to wrap his arms around her and hold her close. Nothing could destroy the moment; that had been no mere sexual encounter. The experience had engaged more than his rampant cock.

Despite his past conquests, nothing had prepared him for the sublime bliss he had discovered in Leah’s arms. He wanted her again. In fact, he doubted he’d ever get enough of her even if they fucked like rabbits everyday until they died. He sought her mouth and kissed her softly, nibbling and teasing. His heart beat a crazy rhythm and a herd of buffalo stampeded in his stomach.

Now would be the perfect time to tell her how he felt. Now would be the time to say how magnificent she was.


“Uh huh.” She brushed her fingers through his hair.

He stared into her beautiful eyes.

The door knob rattled. “Open up, you little shite.”  A fist pounded on the wood.

Leah squealed and shoved Ciaran off. He bounced on the floor on his arse. She scrambled to her feet. “Oh God, did I hurt you. Sorry.”

He shook his head and used the sofa to drag himself to his feet. The knocking sounded again. Ciaran growled. The moment was ruined. “Fuck off, Michael.”

“I won’t be fucking off. I’ll be getting the key from Lucky and coming in to kick your scrawny arse if you don’t open up now.”

Leah tugged on the red satin robe that had hung over the back of a chair.

Ciaran was high and dry. His clothes were in the other dressing room.

Leah chewed her bottom lip. “You’d better let him in. I think he means it.”

Anxious to preserve what little dignity he had left, he grabbed the closest thing to hand and held it in front of his crotch. Michael was a dick. Ciaran had nothing to be ashamed of and nothing to apologize for.

He flicked the lock and opened the door.

Michael, arms folded, leaned against the frame and smiled. “Well how cozy.”

Ciaran stepped in front of Leah. “I’m not sorry. Don’t blame her. This is down to me.”

Michael’s gaze shifted to Leah and back to Ciaran. “Really? You think it was a good idea?”

Ciaran lifted his chin. “It was a fucking fantastic idea. I love her. Do your worst. Sack me. Whatever. But I’ll not go quietly. I’ll follow you from town to town to be with Leah.”

Leah squeezed his shoulder, her hand hot against his skin. He glanced back at her.

A smile lit up her face. She squealed and grabbed him. He spun around, losing the pink fluffy cushion he’d held in front of his dick. She smothered him with kisses. When she finally pulled back, her face was flushed “Say it again.”

“Say what. That I love you? Well I do.”

“I love you too. God, I love you.”

Michael cleared his throat. “This is all very touching, but not what I came to discuss.”

Ciaran turned and frowned, forgetting he was butt naked. “So, you’ll not be wanting my nuts?”

Michael grinned. “And why would I want those scrawny little things when I have a fine pair of my own to play with. Besides, now you’ve finally worked out how you feel about my dance partner, I think you’ll find she’ll be keeping them in a jar.”

“You’re not mad about … this? About us?”

“Nope, but I am mad as hell you flashed the entire bar. What the fuck were you thinking?”

Leah wiggled into Ciaran’s embrace. “Sorry, that was my fault. I forgot about the ‘no nudity rule.’ Is Lucky mad?”

“No. He’s too busy stopping a mini-riot. It seems you aren’t the only one who’d like a piece of Ciaran. I suggest you both get some clothes on and get out of here.”

Ciaran frowned. “I’ve more dancing to do.”

“I’ll be taking your place.”

“I thought you’d pulled a groin muscle?”

“And I thought you’d never be man enough to make a move on Leah even though you’ve been mooning over each other for months.”

“You told me you’d send me home.”

“I told you I’d send anyone home who messed with her. Are you planning on messing with her?”

Ciaran shook his head. “Nope. This is the real thing.”

Michael dug in his pockets and chuckled. “Young love, how delightfully refreshing. Here take my rental.”

Ciaran grabbed the keys to Michael’s Porsche. “Thanks.”

“And don’t be screwing her all night. You both need some sleep. You’ll be dancing together tomorrow in Chicago, and I’d appreciate it if you could both keep your underwear on.”

Ciaran held out a hand. Michael took it and gave a firm shake before looking Ciaran up and down. “And for fuck’s sake, if you won’t get dressed as I asked at least put some shorts on. I think we’ve all seen enough of your scrawny arse for one day.”

















Guest Blogger – Charlotte Stein

CharlotteSteinToday on the purple crushed velvet couch I have the lovely British author, Charlotte Stein. If you haven’t read one of her books, why not? She marries dark, angsty, sexy and funny and that is no mean feat.

Lillian: Welcome Charlotte, and thank you for agreeing to being interrogated.

Charlotte: No problems – it’s a pleasure!

Lillian: For those who have never had the pleasure of reading one of your books maybe you can tell us a bit about the genres you write?

Charlotte: Oooh, I’ve done a bit of sci-fi, a bit of fantasy…some zombies, some contemporaries, a touch of steampunk…I’m a bit of a floozy when it comes to genres, though I think my two main loves are contemporaries and sci-fi. And at the moment, my contemporaries are taking on a very New Adult sort of leaning. I started writing New Adult before it was a thing, and it’s been a lovely surprise to find myself actually writing something people want to read! Before that I was always the awkward gal, ploughing unpopular fields. Femdom is another favorite of mine, though it’s obviously not a favorite of most readers. 

Lillian: I have read a couple of your books and loved them, but I was surprised at just how big a back list you have. How long have you been writing, and how many books a year do you usually produce?

Charlotte: I’ve been writing for most of my life, but have only been published for about three/four years now. However, I can write upwards of five novellas a year and more than one novel, so I’ve managed to build up a good backlist. Of course I have my moments of doubt and periods of less output, but this business is all about persevering and putting the words on the page, so I try to keep at it. 

Lillian: How did you become a writer and at what point did you sit back and say to yourself, yep, I’m a real live author?

Charlotte: I’ve never really wanted to be anything else, so I don’t know if I became one. In terms of publication, I just realized that I was letting my fear and my doubt get the better of me and finally made a deal with a friend. She would join if I sent something off. So I did, and amazingly that first short story was published with Black Lace. As for being a real live author…that didn’t happen right away. Some days I don’t even feel like it’s happened now – though I think giving up my day job played a huge part in making me feel like I might be real and live. And then doing my taxes, as weird as that sounds. Doing my taxes and finally being able to pay an amount to the tax man…that was an oddly “real author” moment. At the very least, it was better than them owing me because I earned so little!

Lillian: What inspires you to write? Where do you get plot and character ideas from?

Charlotte: I’m always faintly embarrassed to say this, because I’m sure lots of writers out there have amazing clever reasons for writing…but basically I’m driven by crushes on sexy men. However, I’ve taken great comfort in the knowledge that many of my favorite writers out there do the same thing…I don’t think it’s that uncommon. It’s just not “I was inspired by my traumatic childhood and the muse riding on a North wind and the pioneering struggles of some historical figure”. I’m passionate about men and all their foibles and flaws and everything that makes them compelling, and that’s a big inspiration for me. My plots all stem from these feelings, from my fascination. And from my desire to see my heroine work some dude out, too.

Lillian: One of the things I enjoyed about your books was your very believable characters. In particular in Addicted and Sheltered the British heroines have all the conversations in their heads that I had in mine in my younger days.  How hard is it to take a very English way of thinking and make it believable to a US audience?

Charlotte: I sort of thought that might be a problem…that when I wrote an American character, people would call me out for making her too British. Or that my British characters would be inaccessible to an American audience. However, I’ve almost found the opposite problem in many cases. People believe I’m American or that my characters are, and then are weirded out when they come across references to ASDA or custard creams. I’ve even had internet friends believe I was American…until I mention something British. Maybe I’ve got an American mindset…maybe it’s all the exposure to American TV…I honestly don’t know. But I think for the most part I’ve gotten away with it.  

Lillian: Have you ever been rejected because your writing is too British?

Charlotte: No, never. *touches wood* Watch out, tomorrow I will be! 

Lillian: You seem to write on the dark side. Tortured heroes and Addictedheroines abound and yet you make readers fall in love with them. What is it about torturing characters you like so much?

Charlotte: LOL it’s not really the torturing I love. It’s the pure pleasure at the end of giving them what they’ve longed for! If there’s no pain, no fight, then there’s no joy in winning.

Lillian: When you’re not writing what do you like to do with your spare time?

Charlotte: I love watching movies, sitcoms, period dramas. I love reading. Basically just stuff that’s barely different from writing.

Lillian: If you weren’t a writer what do you think you would be doing with your life?

Charlotte: Probably what I was doing before…lecturing at a local college. 

Lillian: What can we expect in the future from Charlotte Stein?

Charlotte: More erotic novels with my publisher HarperCollins/Mischief, hopefully…and a New Adult kind of quartet I’m working on. And some sexy contemporaries and sci-fi from Ellora’s Cave…though of course all of this depends on whether people say yes.

Now some questions just for fun?

Movie or a book?

You can’t make me choose. It’s like Sophie’s Choice! 

Sex or chocolate?

Oh my God this is Sophie’s Choice. That’s what you’re trying to do, isn’t it? You’re trying to make me go mad like Meryl Streep. 

Hot or cold?

Cold. The colder the better, in fact. I feel sure I lived in Iceland in a past life.

Butt plug or flogger?

Flogger. As long as I’m the one wielding it.

Thanks for being my guest.

Thank you so much for having me, hon! It was a blast.

You can find out more about Charlotte and her books at her website

A head full of heroes

I used to be a one book woman. Nothing could ever drag my attention away from my current work in progress. The hero and the potential plot, I write with vague ideas so the plot is as much a mystery to me as it is to you, consumed my every waking minute.

I have met writers who have a dozen things on the go at once and could never understand how they did it, I’m looking at you Sofia Grey. My heroes don’t share. They demand my full attention. Some of them even refuse to vacate my head at the end of the book and whine that they want another one.

Writing one book at a time was clean, crisp and organised. Write the book, edit the book, submit the book, start the next one. A winning formula. If you write a dozen at once you are in danger of shuffling deck chairs on the Titanic. The characters blend. The plot ideas get lost. And nothing gets finished as you poke and prod at each without making any tangible process . . . or so I thought.

So, why then when I look at my study whiteboard do I see the following list?


Furry Jack


Innocence Comes to Call



Yes, ladies, and gentleman that may sneak in, six…not one, not two, not three, not four, not five, but six, bloody six works in progress at one time. What the fuck was I thinking?

To be fair two of them I am co-authoring. I write my bit and pass the baby back to my writing partner and hope to God they take their time writing their section so I can do something on my other projects.

I have had to prioritise what I am working on. One is on hold while I wait to see if anyone will pick up the first book in the series. Two others are on hold until I get finished with everything else so that leaves three. Two I’ve already covered as being co-authored and the third? The third is Innocence Comes to Call. For those who enjoyed my Reigning Men Series you might like this one. It’s a spin off. Stripper Chad is the hero, Male Review the venue, and comic relief is provided by Patrick Monaghan, younger brother to Michael. And yes Michael gets a small part.

Shut up, Michael. I never said your part was small… no one who has seen you strip would ever say that!

So, fingers crossed I get time to write some more so that I can get it finished and then I can reduce the number of heroes in my head. It’s getting very crowded in there.

Time to put your big girl panties on

Some things in life can’t be avoided, even if they scare the crap out of you. This year I have decided it’s time to tackle my biggest fear of all. What is it you ask? And if you didn’t I’m going to tell you anyway.  Snakes, they’re scary, but no. Crocodiles, not keen, but no. Bungy Jumping, never tried it and never going to, but no. Marketing.

If you’re one of the four people who’ve read my book Go With the Flo, firstly thank you, and secondly where do you think the idea came from? Who was the girl who couldn’t sell Avon? It might have been me. Yep, back in the day I was an Avon lady trailing door to door. I never had a gorgeous male best friend whose laughter was pure erotic vocal foreplay, I may never have dipped my toe in the pool of sexual delights. Hey, don’t judge me I was only fourteen. However there might have been a Friday night flasher and I definitely couldn’t have sold a life raft to a drowning man. Apparently, you don’t have to buy anything if you don’t want to, is not the way to close a sale.

So, what does all this have to do with me now that I am no longer fourteen, my toes have been drowned in the pool and I have handed in my Avon badge?

Well, shock horror, as part of my day job as an accountant I am required to win new business and authors have to help sell books.

Given a choice between standing up on stage and singing, or presenting some dry training, and standing in a room full of strangers with a business card in one hand and a glass of wine in the other I would choose the stage every time.

I have the same fear about marketing online. I worry that I am offensive. Which is funny because I often set out to be when I am not selling. But I don’t want to be the author everyone unfriends on Facebook for only sending spam, or rolls their eyes at when a new email lobs up in their inbox. I want to win friends and fans gently. So, I devised a cunning plan.

I will market come hell or high water but I will be subtle. To begin with I joined this group of lovely ladies because it’s less scary when you are with others. Secondly, I joined lots of blog hops because who can be offended when I am offering free prizes? And lastly, I decided to ask some great people to be my guest on the purple crushed velvet couch. I may not be selling directly but people may begin to recognise the name and wonder who the hell I am. Besides, interviewing some of your best friends and authors who give you a real fangirl moment when they say yes to your request to ask lots of probing questions is no real hardship.

I think I might even grow to like this marketing gig.

Be sure to check out our new coming soon page to see who I am interrogating and all the other lovely things we have planned.

And you can still add comments to yesterday’s post to win prizes in the Heartbreaker’s Blog Hop.

I still call Australia Home – Or I’m fair dinkum!

Today is a public holiday.  A day away from the drudge of the day job. The reason for this extra day to sleep in and wallow in endless nothingness, no deadlines, no clients, Australia Day.

I was reflecting on my life as an Aussie. In 1986 I arrived from the UK with a lovely new husband, 18 month old baby, $2000, nowhere to live, no job and no idea how things would turn out.  Madness? Undoubtedly. A mistake? Never.

Within two weeks we had jobs, and had put a down payment on a beaten up old three bedroom house and we felt like we owned the world. At last we were home owners. Our boy had a garden to run and play in and our work colleagues became fast friends, taking pity on two dumb 20 somethings fresh off the plane, giving us old stuff to furnish our new home.

As soon as we were able we became citizens. In the time we’ve been here we’ve moved all over and had another little Aussie to add to the population. Even when we were dirt poor and had to walk everywhere because we had no car, nearly lost it all and had to move into a half built house during the 90’s recession, I never regretted emigrating.

I loved having the headlights of my car sweep over our front garden in the bush and watching dozens of kangaroos leap for cover. Seeing a koala walk up the front drive of our rented unit as my little boy screamed teddy bear. Waking up early and walking down to Echo Point in the Blue Mountains to see the early morning fog in the valley below. Sitting cross legged on a concrete floor in a half built house we’d spent every spare minute for the last twelve months working on watching the IOC chairman announce the winner of the bid to host the 2000 Olympic Games was Sydney. Spending a week camping at the ocean and having miles and miles of empty beach to ourselves. Snorkeling on the Barrier Reef with tropical fish and sea turtles. Waking up in the morning to the laughing of Kookaburras in the trees at the end of the street. Inhaling the fresh scent of eucalyptus after a storm has cleaned the air.

I’ve traveled the world over and seen a lot of things but when push comes to shove, I’m glad the first plane flight I ever took was to bring me to the country I now call home.  Even if it does mean I now have a funny nasal accent.

Happy Australia Day

Cheesy Sex

ID-10010900When you think of sexy food I bet the things that come to mind are sweet and sensual. Who can resist licking a warm body drizzled in chocolate sauce? Or how about filling a belly button with champagne and dipping sweet strawberries in it?  Sucking honey from hard flesh?

My other half is not a sweet tooth. He loves bags of potato chips, nuts, corn chips and cheese. Would you ever imagine taking any of these to bed. Can you imagine how uncomfortable a night’s slumber would by lying on a sheet covered in chip crumbs? And nuts could get into all the wrong places. What about cheese?

Cream cheese is a possibility but I can definitely advise that grated parmesan is not good. Now you might think I was testing something for a new book, or just going one kinky step further to please my hubby. You’d be wrong on both counts. Nope, I opened the fridge to tug out a bottle of Coke Zero to quench my thirst in Australia’s never ending heat wave and a full tub of grated parmesan toppled off my shelf. The lid popped off and the whole tub landed on my chest. My cleavage was full of cheese, my bra was full of cheese and it felt horrible. I smelt of sweaty feet and I hate cheese, it makes me heave.

Grated parmesan makes your skin itch, it gets everywhere and only a shower will clean up the mess. So, no matter how much your partner begs you to take the grater to bed, trust me and just don’t go there.

Photo Suat Eman

Goodbye 2012 it was nice knowing you

vbsd0213_ntscWhen the clock ticks over at midnight it will be the third new year I have celebrated as a published author.

For the first two years I was clueless. I moved from publisher to publisher trying to find a writing home, and from genre to genre to find out what fit. I considered chasing the market and even quitting altogether. Sales numbers were not good. Everything felt like shoveling shit uphill.

However, 2012 changed everything.  Sales are still not where I want them but I finally embraced who I am. Romantic comedy is my thing. Dark angst, drama, horror, none of it works for me. Even if I try to write them my characters start cracking jokes. I have no desire to apologise for writing about sex. Erotic romance floats my boat if people don’t like it that’s not my problem. I am what I am. I write what I love and I rejoice in it.

Marketing is not the scary beast I once thought it was. I do what I can and don’t sweat over the things I can’t.

I realised other authors are not me. Someone else’s success is not the guide I should use to measure my own performance. Nathan Bransford once blogged about how writers never celebrate success. They dream of publication but when they get there it’s not enough, now they want to make a best sellers list, or sell like someone else. We are great at turning our successes into failures.

Now I have found my genre and Liquid Silver Books, a publisher who loves what I write, I plan to sit back and take time to smell the roses, enjoy what I have achieved already before worrying about what I still want to achieve.

Writing is a journey not a destination. I hope my travels along the path in 2013, the people I meet, the places I visit, are as wonderful as those on my journey in 2012.

Happy New Year