Monday, May 29, 2017

Cover Reveal & Preorder: A Daring Desire by Jeanne St. James #menage #MMF #Interracial

A Daring Desire
The Dare Menage Series Book 4
by Jeanne St. James
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance, MMF, Menage, Interracial, LGBTQ


https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32296110-brothers-in-blue


Take two defense attorneys, add one troubled NFL QB who needs them, and what do you get? Hot, sexy conflict.



Gryff Ward made a serious mistake when he hired the hot-as-hell defense attorney Rayne Jordan as an associate in his high-profile legal firm, even though she’s one of the best. Now he’s struggling to keep it professional, especially when she insists on calling him “Boss.”

Rayne’s been attracted to the firm's top attorney ever since her interview. And she’s well aware that calling the conservative man “Boss” drives him crazy…in a very good way.

Add Trey Holloway, their newest client, a troubled NFL quarterback, into the mix. Tension arises when it’s clear that both Gryff and Trey want Rayne and Gryff is willing to fight for her. However, Trey doesn’t hide the fact that he wants Gryff too.

Now Gryff’s having a hard time fighting not only his attraction to Rayne but to another man. Even though he stubbornly refuses to admit his deepest, darkest desires.

Then Rayne takes control. She’s determined to have them both in not only her bed but her life, and she won’t give up until she does.



Note: This book in the series can be read as standalone. It includes an HEA ending. It is intended for audiences over 18 years of age since it includes explicit sexual scenes between all three characters.




Excerpt:



Gryffin Ward’s dick was so hard he winced.

The newest associate at his law firm stood on the other side of his desk talking. Actually talking to him.

And he had no clue what she was even saying.

As he watched her lips move, he regretted hiring her. Even though she came highly recommended.

Rayne’s stats were so good he would’ve been a fool not to. The more cases his practice won, the more clients they attracted. The more clients they drew, the larger his firm grew. Which meant—

Oh fuck. Who cared what it meant. Right now, he desperately needed to adjust himself because his erection was caught in his pants in a painful position.

“So, what do you think, Boss?”

Holy fuck with that “Boss” shit again.

She needed to start dressing like a nun and stop calling him that. Otherwise, he would have permanent blue balls.

What did he think? He didn’t. All the blood in his brain had rushed to his dick, so he had no valid thoughts.

“You don’t have to call me boss. In fact, please don’t.”

“I know I don’t.” With a smile, Rayne leaned over and tapped him under the chin before spinning on the heel of her fuck-me pumps and heading toward the door. “But I like it,” she threw over her shoulder.

Me too.

He took one last glance at her tight skirt with the slit in the back, the one that hugged her luscious ass, and those stockings she wore with the line up the back of her legs, before she disappeared, leaving his office door open.

Gryff closed his eyes and blew out a breath.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

No wonder she won most of her cases. The judge’s and the ADA’s brains were probably mush after watching her pace the courtroom cross-examining witnesses on the stand.

No matter what, she was highly respected for being a great defense attorney.

But he should fire her. He didn’t dip his pen in the company ink and he wasn’t going to start now. Even though she sorely tempted him.

He was a wretch. That’s what he was.

JEANNE ST. JAMES is a best-selling erotic romance author who loves an Alpha male (or two). She was only 13 when she started writing since it gave her an escape from teenage angst! Her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl magazine. Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages.
She has a few new releases coming up in 2017. So keep an eye on her website at www.jeannestjames.com or sign up for her newsletter here.

 

Sunday, May 28, 2017

New Release: Bound to Them by Peyton Brittany Clarke #Menage #MMF #BDSM


Siren Menage Amour: Erotic Consensual Cowboy BDSM Menage a Trois Romance, M/M/F, HEA

Jake Hargate is a man with a past. Born into a rich and powerful political family in Massachusetts, they were all raised to believe one thing: protect the family's interests at all costs. After leaving that life behind, Jake finds love and happiness married to Max Krause, a Dom, and Ally Renjel, a submissive. Being Max's submissive gives Jake the security he needs, and topping Ally gives him the control he craves.

But when a political scandal threatens to ruin Jake's brother, a prominent governor who hopes to move up the political ladder, Jake is drawn into a dark world of vengeance he swore he'd never enter again. Jake's family gives him a choice: help them or risk the life he cherishes with Max and Ally.

Deciding to do whatever it takes to protect Max and Ally, Jake is drawn into a world of darkness. Will Max and Ally be able to rescue him, or will Jake be lost forever?


Note: This book contains double vaginal penetration.

A Siren Erotic Romance



ADULT EXCERPT


Blindfolded Jake sat on his haunches. He felt a gentle brush of his Master’s finger across his chin.

“Relax Orchid,” Max said. “I can see the tension rising in your shoulders.”

“Yes, Master,” Jake replied with a sigh. He opened his thoughts to the messages his body was sending to his brain. The gentle sting of the rough rope entwined around his wrists as they lay nestled in the crevice of his upper back.

Jake inhaled deeply and centered his mind concentrating on the sensation of his body as he knelt on the floor. The plush, soft carpet enveloped his knees. It smelled of fresh flowers from the cleaner that their wife loved to use. He adjusted his position on the carpet, spreading his legs farther apart further increasing the tension on his legs. He groaned with pleasure, then flexed his chest and back muscles. Stimulated to the fullest, his mind threatened to overload.

“Orchid focus on my loving embrace,” Max said.

Jake sighed. “Yes Master.”

Stay in the present. Bondage had been the best thing Max had given him for handling his anxieties. Throughout their training, Max said the core of Jake’s anxiety was rooted in his tendency to stray away from the moment.

The rope around his torso tightened. Not enough to restrict his breathing but just enough to send waves of arousal to his dick. Instantly, all errant thoughts fled his mind.

“I love you Master,” he said.

“I love you too Orchid,” Max replied.

Jake tilted his head to one side. Master’s clean fresh scent wafted to his nose. Heat spread across his cheeks and his heart fluttered. He realized Max was inches away from. His hot breath dusted Jake’s cheek. It moved then he felt firm lips touch his. Jake opened his mouth, and Max’s tongue slid inside. Sweet and gentle, the kiss made his body tingle and his cock pulse. His hands, though bound elegantly behind his back with rope, tensed as he fought the urge to try to break free of his bonds and give his Master a passionate kiss.

He opened his eyes as Max pulled away. Jake mewled his protest. His cock was harder than before and he wanted more. He grimaced in order to maintain control.

“No,” Max said sharply.

A wave of adrenaline surged through his body. Jake allowed his head to fall back, as his eyes closed and his mouth opened. A calloused fingertip brushed lightly against his cheek.

“Enjoy my love,” Max said. His deep baritone voice melted Jake’s soul. “I’ll come back to you in a moment.”

Jake listened as Max expertly untied the ropes around Ally. She moaned softly as Max kneaded her skin. After a while, he heard her contented sigh.

“How do you feel?” Max asked.

“Good,” Ally said with a dulcet tone.

“Present yourself to me,” Max said.

Jake heard the gentle thud of Max’s feet as he walked to him.

“Orchid,” Max said.

“Yes Master?”

“Time to move on, come back to me,” Max said.

“Okay,” Jake replied.

Max removed the blindfold. Jake opened his eyes. The world around him seemed brighter. The colors more distinct. Max loosened the knots and deftly unwound the rope from Jake’s torso. Max set the jute rope aside and massaged Jake’s chest and arms. They sprang back to life this time bringing forth a surge of energy.

“Oh God,” Jake yelped.

His body was on fire with need. He craved his Master’s touch.

“You feel it,” Max said.

“I need you so badly, please give me more pleasure. Fuck me please,” Jake said practically whining.

“I will. But not yet.”

Max massaged his chest and back. His calloused hands were like sand paper further stimulating him. Max’s hands traveled the length of his arms and legs, grazing Jake’s aching dick.

“How do you feel?” Max asked.

“Good. Master, I want more.”

“I know you do. I will give it to you in time. But first you must pleasure me. Go to the bed.”

Jake did as was told. Once on the bed, he smiled, happy that he was able to serve Max.

“Flower suck Jake’s cock first, don’t stop until I tell you,” Max said. “Keep going until he’s on the verge. Jake, you are not to cum. Your orgasms are mine. Your cum is mine. You cannot shoot your load until I tell you. No matter what your body demands, ignore it and obey me.”

Jake licked his lips and nodded.

“You may proceed Ally,” Max said.

Jake gasped as her lips wrapped around his dick. His opened his mouth and let his head fall back as she worked his shaft with her tongue. Max licked and nipped his neck, sucking and kissing his burning flesh. Pressure built up in Jake’s balls as she pumped his shaft, alternately mouthing his mushroom tip while Max left a trail of pain on the side of his neck.

“Master please,” Jake said as a tear rolled down his cheek.

He didn’t know how much more he could take. His Master was an expert at giving him blue balls, keeping him on the brink, allowing him to see the edge but not letting him go over it. After a couple of years of play Jake was better at maintaining his control, but he was not that good. His ability to stave off his impending orgasm was starting to slip.

“You can stop now Flower. Orchid is on the verge. Aren’t you my love?”

“Yes Master,” Jake said. He closed his eyes and settled his mind on unsexy things like the work that awaited him tomorrow.

“Deep breaths Orchid. Listen to my voice and come back to me.”

Floating somewhere above them, his mind came back to the moment. He heard them kiss then stop.

“Oh God I’m so hard,” Jake whined.

“Then you’re ready for the next part. This time you can watch,” Max said. “Ally suck me.”




My Blog: Hot, Sexy and Shared- Erotic Romances by Peyton Brittany Clarke- http://peytonbrittanyclarkewrites.blogspot.com

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Saturday, May 27, 2017

Fun in the Sun Multi-Author #Giveaway! #Win #Kindle Fires & #Amazon #Giftcards


Authors from the Romance community invite you to our 
FUN IN THE SUN 
MULTI-AUTHOR EVENT

Prizes include:
  2 Kindle Fires
$50 Amazon Gift Card
$25 Amazon Gift Card
3 - $10 Amazon Gift Card
 Enter here:

Friday, May 26, 2017

First Chapter Friday: FOREVER HIM (An Obsessed Novella) by Jeanne St. James #eroticromance #erotica

FOREVER HIM
 An Obsessed Novella
Jeanne St. James
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance/Erotica


https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32296110-brothers-in-blue
This is not just a love story, it’s an obsession…

I can’t keep my eyes off the tall, dark, and confident man who stops in the coffee shop every morning. I want this stranger more than I’ve ever wanted anyone before, even though I only know his first name. As an author, my imagination is my ultimate writing tool, men like Kane my muse. And the minute he leaves, I’m overcome with fantasies I can’t control and my fingers fly across the keyboard … until one day, I almost snap. My embarrassing outburst has me running out the door when he catches me and takes me to his home.

Though it’s risky, I can’t resist him. And with one kiss, he now owns me. This man will capture my sanity and trap it forever. He’ll steal me one piece at a time until he possesses me completely. He’ll ruin me for any other man. But I don’t want anyone else, for it’ll always be forever him.



Note: All books in the Obsessed series are stand-alone novellas. It is intended for audiences over 18 years of age since it includes explicit sexual situations, including BDSM.

 Available on Amazon for $0.99 for a limited time
Or FREE on Kindle Unlimited! 


http://amzn.to/2k4KUeU


His name is Kane.
I will love him forever. He just doesn’t know it yet…

Chapter One
The only reason I know his name is because every morning when he stops at the coffee shop for his large black coffee, the barista calls out, “Kane with a K.”
Every. Single. Morning.
            I assume the barista does it on purpose. Possibly to coax a smile out of him. But it never does.
            His expression never changes. It seems forever stuck in serious mode. He just grabs his coffee, throws money into the tip jar, spins on his heels, and leaves.
            Maybe he’s an important man. A busy man. A man with a lot of responsibilities on his broad shoulders. Maybe his mind is on what he needs to get done for the day.
            But he never deviates from his routine. Black coffee. No cream. No sugar. No pastries.
            Not once since I’ve noticed him.
            I rarely pay attention to people coming and going from the shop since the mornings are usually busy. I sit in my corner with my laptop open, my brain spinning with ideas. Or not.
            Sometimes I have severe writer’s block. Those are the times my brain seems dark and empty. Nobody’s home.
            I had it the first morning I noticed him. During those times, I stare off blindly while reaching deep into my head. Searching for… something. Anything. Begging for just a couple words to spur my creativity.
            The front door with its delicate dinging bell usually never pulls my attention. Until that day.
            The day I happened to be staring at the door mindlessly, not paying attention to the influx of customers.
            Until him.
            He’s tall. And broad. Not fat, no. Heavy muscles bunch under the dress shirt he wears as he pushes the door open and steps inside.
            His dark hair is super short on the sides, just a tiny bit longer on the top. A no-nonsense haircut. Like him… No nonsense.
            His perfectly ironed, deep purple dress shirt is tucked neatly into his black slacks. His black leather belt is held together by a simple gold-tone buckle.
            His eyebrows appear dark and heavy above eyes that make me blink. They are so light but I can't tell if they are gray or blue. No matter what, they’re a shocking contrast to his skin color.
            The only visible accessory he wears is a watch on his wrist. Even from where I sit, I can see it’s quality. One I could never afford, and I probably wouldn’t know the brand. But it screams expensive.
            His legs are long and unmistakably solid, giving him a confident stride as he beelines to the counter.
            Why does he stop here for black coffee? I’m sure he can afford a coffee maker. It isn’t difficult to make. Some grounds, a filter, and some water. Push the button, wait, and voilà…
Ah, maybe he doesn’t like to wait. But is it actually quicker to stop here every morning?
Maybe he doesn’t like to clean up. Though, after studying him, my gut instinct says he can afford someone to take care of dirty dishes. Perhaps he even has a significant other who would be willing to do it. A wife. A husband.
A lover
It doesn’t matter why he stops each morning because once I notice him, I can’t take my eyes off him. I can’t concentrate.
I watch his lips move as he places his order. I wait for the corners of his lips to turn up as he talks to the barista. They don’t. No eye crinkle, no smile, not even a nod of his head to acknowledge that he’s speaking to a fellow human.
Nothing.
            He never takes out a cell phone once while waiting for his coffee. I have never even seen him with one in his hand.
            He would be the kind of person to think it rude to be on your phone instead of giving your full attention to the person serving you. Even if that attention is cold, lifeless.
            He’s consistent, and he always comes alone.
            One day I switch from my regular table in the corner to a table where I can see his left hand. His ring finger appears bare. Though, that doesn’t guarantee he isn’t married. Or in a committed relationship. A lot of men don’t wear bands.
            I watch him every day. I learn the way he moves, that he’s right-handed, that he takes fifteen strides to the coffee counter. That he always checks the lid on his coffee to make sure it’s secure before pivoting to leave.
            I turn into Pavlov’s dog. When the bell rings at 8:02 every morning, I have to glance up. I can’t fight it even if I want to.
            After I watch him walk out the door, I spin fantasies about him. How he will look naked. How his face will twist when he comes. How his fingers will feel deep in my pussy, stroking my insides, making me wet.
            How serious his kiss will be when he crushes me against him.
            I can’t escape my thoughts. My desires. My panty-soaking fantasies.
            I think about changing coffee shops because I‘m becoming obsessed.
            I want to touch him. I want to see him smile. I want to make him laugh.
            I imagine that something is missing from his life. Like me. I can solve all his problems. I can smooth his brow when it furrows after being overwhelmed at work. I can kiss away the tension. I can whisper soothing words in his ear to distract him from all the important tasks he’s responsible for.
The only good thing about my obsession is it helps me write. Once the bell rings as the door closes behind him, my fingers tear across the keyboard. I no longer suffer from writer’s block. Fantasy after fantasy pops in my head, and I squeeze my thighs together until I ache as the words spill out onto the screen.
He is my muse.
My inspiration.
His skin is dark, but I can’t imagine him lounging by a pool. He seems too important for that. Or too impatient. He probably doesn’t have time for fun. Life for him is about getting things done.
So, it isn’t a tan. No, his skin tone appears natural. His heritage makes him dark. Brooding. Intense. Something lurks in his lineage that is far from middle America. Even if his driver’s license classifies him as white, his family tree would say otherwise.
            Kane with a K intrigues me.
I never sleep in anymore, but I don’t have to set my alarm. My eyes pop open every weekday at the same time, my head already filled with him. I make sure I am at the coffee shop, in my usual spot with my laptop open, my chai tea fresh and hot in front of me by 7:50. Just in case he’s early.
He never is. He’s like clockwork. He has a routine, and sticks with it.
Every. Single. Morning.
I want to know what his last name is. What he does for a living. What kind of car he drives. Does he walk to the coffee shop? Does he live or work nearby?
When the tiny bell rings, I glance up. My eyes flick to the time in the corner of my screen, 8:02. Then they land back on him.
Today he wears a jacket over his light blue dress shirt, one that emphasizes the color of his eyes. His dark blue patterned tie is knotted perfectly, precise, tight to his collar. The cuffs of his shirt are visible over his hands. The correct length for a well-dressed man. His gold cufflinks flash as his arm swings in rhythm with his gait.
He’s so out of my league, he never, ever glances my way. Not once.
I don’t understand how he can’t feel the heat of my gaze, the filthy sexual nature of my thoughts.
How can he not feel me undressing him?
Every. Single. Morning.
He has to wait this morning. Two people are ahead of him with much more complex orders than his usual large black coffee. The staff is short-handed today. His sharp gaze sweeps the space behind the counter before realizing the issue. He lifts his arm and checks his watch.
His toe taps. Most likely from impatience, not nervousness. His body turns as he surveys the shop. For once, he's noticing that there are other customers and things in the café other than just him, the barista, and his large black coffee.
            I feel him, though he’s not even close, not even touching me.
            I sense the air shift with every breath he takes. I notice every blink. His long, dark eyelashes open and close like two Chinese fans.
Then his gaze bounces to me.
            Instead of continuing past, it stops. It stays. He stares. Possibly because I’m staring back. Maybe because my mouth gapes open and I’m breathing more shallow than normal.
            I shift awkwardly in the hard, wooden chair as heat rises into my cheeks, and I’m mortified that I can’t tear my gaze away from his.
His eyes narrow and his brows furrow, making his eyes appear darker than normal. They remind me of a stormy sea instead of the tranquil Caribbean Ocean.
My heart beats furiously as his eyes roam over my hair. I fight not to run a hand through it and hope it’s all in place… because it usually isn’t. I curse under my breath when his gaze drops lower to my mouth. I lick my lips before slamming my jaw shut, narrowly missing my tongue. His inspection of me is slow, thorough. Down my neck and then lower.
I’m glad I tossed on a V-neck cashmere sweater this morning and not an old sweatshirt. Never in my wildest fantasies did I think he would notice me.
Never.
His eyes roam smoothly to my cleavage and pause again. One second, two seconds, three seconds. Blood rushes to my head, and I squirm. Heat pools at my core making me wiggle in my seat.
God, just his gaze makes me want to come. My pussy throbs and I have an urge to touch myself.
All of those fantasies.
If he only knew.
He’d probably laugh and think I’m silly. That he’s way out of my league. He would never be with someone like me.
But I want him to touch me. I want his fingers to rake through my hair, rip my head back. I want to feel his lips, his teeth, along the strong pulse in my neck. I want him to brush his thumbs over my hardened nipples.
I find myself light-headed and realize I stopped breathing. I’m waiting. Paused for him to make his move. To grab my hand, pull me out the door, to his house, his car, his office, where he could fuck me thoroughly and hard until he makes me explode into a million pieces.
I want to climb on his lap and spear myself on his cock, riding him hard until I’m slick, sweating, and clinging to his skin with my fingernails. I want to feel his teeth along the sensitive curves of my breasts.
I want.
I want.
I want him to touch me.
I need him to touch me.
I need his fingers, his hard cock, inside me.
And I’m as impatient as him.
I need it now.
I want him now.
Now!
            I scream silently. A voice I don’t recognize as mine yells, “Touch me, damn it! Touch me!”
            Then I realize all customers’ eyes are on me. Those words, that demand, were not contained in my head.
            No.
            I shouted it out loud. The rawness in my throat unequivocal proof.
            My chair squeals as I shove it back and it falls to a clatter behind me. I grab my laptop, slamming the lid down. I tuck it under my arm and rush out of the coffee shop.
            I leave my dignity behind, just like my chai latte.
            My cheeks remain hot, my heart pounds, my stomach rolls. I’m about to evacuate the contents of my stomach.
            I push through the front door and suck in fresh air, willing myself to breathe. In through the nostrils, out through the mouth. Slow, steady. Keeping the rhythm until my nausea subsides.
            My back faces the store front, and cars with occupants, who are clueless to my recent life-changing outburst, whiz by. They don’t know how crazy I sounded shouting to a man, a stranger, in the coffee shop behind me.
            But I know.
            And he knows.
            I need to get away before the door opens, the bell rings, and he steps out onto the sidewalk. One we would have to share.
            Because right now, the thought of sharing anything with him is too much.
            I force my feet to move, my legs to function. I move forward blindly. Step by step.
            Then a car horn blares, scaring me out of my stupor. And my whole body becomes a rag-doll.


JEANNE ST. JAMES is an erotic romance author who loves an Alpha male (or two). She was only 13 when she started writing since it gave her an escape from teenage angst! Her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl magazine. Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages.
She has a few new releases coming up in 2017. So keep an eye on her website at www.jeannestjames.com or sign up for her newsletter here.